


Rhythm

by ObsidianQuill (ObsidianRomance)



Series: Rhythm [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Bastardization of Human Biology, Bleeding, Carpenter Ian, Conflicted Mickey, Daddy Ian, Daddy Mickey, Electrician Mickey, Established Relationship, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of bipolar, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Mpreg Mickey, Oral Sex, Rimming, Self Confidence Issues, Talk of Abortion, Talk of adoption, Vomiting, accidental injury, baby schmoop, cute baby, graphic birth, talk of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 146,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian mess up a lot, but they usually take the most roundabout route possible to figure it out in the end.<br/>When Mickey starts thinking Ian knocked him up, they've got a pretty big mess to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...so....I have no idea how this happened. I do like mpreg, so...if you don't, then don't read it and don't yell at me.
> 
> But for the most part, this just kind of happened because I had all these angsty feelings that I wanted to get out without really dealing with other realistic scenarios.
> 
> But this story has a bunch of different chapters that deal with Mickey telling Ian he's pregnant and them dealing with it. Each chapter is part of this story as a whole but some wrap up one issue before a new one starts.

Mikey’s awake because Ian’s fingers are twitching over his belly. Well, he’s not actually awake because of Ian’s fingers, or the twitching, but he kind of is. He’s kind of hyper aware of those fingers, moving over the spans below his bellybutton as if he’s tapping out some slow motion Morse message in his sleep. They’re drumming through him, like they can reverberate enough to coast over everything inside of Mickey, making him painfully aware of things he’s been doing a shitty job of ignoring.

Ian’s not doing it on purpose; he’s out cold and his breath is fanning over the back of Mickey’s neck like it always does when he’s pulled deep down into a decent sleep. It’s just that Ian’s fingers always fall there. It doesn’t matter how they pass out, Mickey knows that he’ll wake up at some point with Ian’s arm thrown over his side, hand on his middle and the fingers fanning out like they own the place. They mostly do, and they hold stake to _all_ of the real-estate in the areas below and above.

What’s normally a safety net helping to remind Mickey that even when parts of his life fall out of place, there is a way to shove them back together, starts to make him feel claustrophobic. Ian’s arm weighs nowhere near enough to pin him down but he feels stuck in the position, Ian’s fingers tripping a nerve that makes Mickey want to vomit.

It becomes more than a want.

It becomes reality.

He’s sick all at once and gags hard enough so that his body has some warning over how this is going to end. Scrambling to the edge of the bed, he untangles his body from Ian’s and the bedsheets, practically tripping when his foot gets hung up and he has to yank a little harder.

Without the support of Mickey’s shoulder, Ian thumps to the mattress and wakes with a confused groan, bleary eyes blinking open and tongue wetting his lips so that he can let out a, “wha?” as he watches Mickey’s retreating form. “Mick?”

Mickey wishes Ian could have stayed asleep because he hates being sick when he’s sober enough to remember it, and he hates it even more when he knows Ian’s going to be on him about why he’s landing on his knees in front of their toilet and retching into the bowl. Truth is, he doesn’t even know how he can answer that question. He’s mostly sure why his body feels like turning itself inside out but he’s not certain and he knows the dangers of living by speculation.

“Mick?” Ian tries again and this time Mickey hears his footsteps as he pads across their small studio apartment.

“Fuck off,” Mickey tries, hoping he sounds intimidating but knowing that the hitch at the end as he vomits again makes him sound pathetic. When he’s done, he adds, “I’m fine…I’m…fine,” but there is less heat in his words and more of a desire to curl up and feel dead all on his own. He braces himself on the toilet and looks over his shoulder. “Close the door.” Shutting his eyes, he tries to breathe like a normal person but he feels like he’s seasick; every breath leaves him queasy. The sound of the door clicking shut gives him momentary relief but it’s short lived when there is a thud on the floor beside him and a pair of long legs stretch out to crowd the tiny bathroom. “I meant without you in here,” Mickey snorts.

“Well tough shit.” Ian’s hand lands on the back of Mickey’s neck and it’s hot against the cold clamminess it’s met with. The fingers that started this whole mess in the first place start tracing soothing circles into the base of his hairline.  “You should learn to be more specific.”

“You wouldn’t’ve fucking listened.” It’s a truth that both frustrates and enamors Mickey. Ian never listens, almost predictably so. But if he did, then they wouldn’t be here, in this type of purgatory that they’re living in – better than the hell they’ve come from, but they haven’t quite made it to heaven standards. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Mickey turns to face Ian. The other man is so goddamn awake and functioning and full of concern and ‘let me fix it’ attitude that Mickey hates him. And loves him. And wishes Ian could actually fix all of it. But all he can do right now is be there. “Get me some fucking water,” Mickey asks.

Ian’s on his feet in an instant, grabbing a cup beside the faucet, fiddling with the taps and returning to a crouching positon as he offers the water to his boyfriend.

Mickey drinks. It’s cool and soothing but the relief is short lived because apparently his stomach hasn’t switched over to intake and he’s vomiting up watery bile, his whole body ending the display with a spasmodic dry heave. “Fuck,” he mumbles and presses his forehead against the cool ceramic.

“Mick…” Ian whispers and Mickey has no idea how the nickname can somehow convey so much. It’s “I’m worried about you” and “what’s wrong?” and “let me help.” He resumes his position sitting on the floor, knees pulled closer to his chest so he can fit in a negative space between Mickey and the wall. Hair falls in his face, but even that can’t block the concerned look in his eyes as he cocks his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mickey snaps, even though he really should, even though he’s going to have to. The words come out angrier than he means but it’s the nervous energy that’s making him snippier than just the average bout of having one’s guts turn inside out. He realizes the words must have stung a little too much for Ian’s liking because he can hear the telltale sounds of the other man moving to leave the room. Mickey’s hand reaches out, snagging Ian around the ankle and tugging. “Stay.”

This time, Ian does exactly as he’s told. He falls back to the floor, legs stretched in a V around his boyfriend so he can reach past Mickey and manage to brush his hands up to push Mickey’s hair off his forehead. He curves forward and gently drapes himself over Mickey’s back, leaving his chin to figure out where to settle - over the man’s shoulder or on his head.

Ian pressing into him doesn’t make Mickey feel weighted down. Pushing him off used to be a kneejerk reaction but that’s been faded for a while now. At the moment it makes him feel better, like he’s got his head back in place. It’s comforting now that he’s figured out the fight or flight triggers. Still, being sick in front of anyone, regardless of who they are, isn’t something he’s proud of. But Ian coasts his hands over ribs that are tender from vomiting and Mickey stops caring. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly.

He’ll deal with his crap – crap that is really _their_ crap – tomorrow.


	2. Dealing with It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part has a bit of NSFW porn at the end but it's not really about the porn. It's character building and world building. I promise there will be decent porn for the sake of being porn.  
> Thanks for all the lovely comments.  
> Also - I am adding tags as I go.

Mickey thinks he was probably born with some type of death wish. A death wish that has so many layers that he can’t figure out when it’s coming or going. He somehow finds a way to live his life on the edge of something dangerous and maybe that’s why, even when he’s trying to do something decidedly less dangerous than the shit he used to pull, his proper, respectable job is still something people are afraid of. True, they’re not afraid of it in the way that he feared coming out of the closet or being chased by some psychopath with a gun, but people are afraid of electricity. They don’t know what to do with it. Oddly enough, Mickey does. He figured that out at a young age, when he learned to pull things apart to see what made them tick and then put them back together.

He used to be good at putting things back together.

He feels pretty shitty at it right now, however.

He’s supposed to be rewiring a bathroom but he just keeps fixating on the same fleck of dirt on the tile floor. It’s not like the clients know what he’s doing; as far as they’re concerned, he’s hard at work dealing with the electrical problems they’re so afraid of.  Mickey gets why they feel that way. Electric work can be dangerous but he’s damn good at it. He needs something just on the edge of hazardous to keep him invested in the job.

He closes the bathroom door and locks it for good measure, even though the homeowner seems intent on keeping herself and the kids out in the backyard until the big bad electrical problem has been tamed and all is well in the world again. Sighing, he lets himself fall against the door and breathe for several minutes.

He feels sick again, but completely different from the way he felt last night. He’s pretty sure last night was something else entirely but right now his heart is beating so rapidly that he feels lightheaded. Already being ninety percent sure he’s pregnant leaves him feeling like he’s ten feet above his body as he confirms the other ten percent. Thinking and knowing are two very different animals because knowing can’t disguise itself with ignorance.

Rummaging through his tool box, he retrieves the pregnancy test he stashed there. He swiped it from the pharmacy on his way to work; old habits die hard and there was no way he was actually getting caught paying for it. It’s not that anyone would let that fact become a blip on their radar, it’s more of the principle of the thing.  Tearing open the box, he skims the instructions enough to get the gist and pees on the damn stick. As he sets it down on the nice family’s pristine white vanity, he snorts at the fact that they’ll never know many dirty things he’s done. He’s clean now, but he’s done some things that he’s not proud of. Staring at the stick he just pissed on, thinking about how it’s going to say he’s pregnant, makes him feel dirty all over again, like he hasn’t done enough _right_ for people to see this pregnancy as anything other than a bad thing.

He’s not just hating on himself. There are the same thoughts in his head about Ian. _He_ doesn’t feel that way about Ian, not by a long shot, but he knows Ian’s fucked up a hell of a lot of times too. Some of it stems from being bipolar but a lot of it is just trying to go through the growing pains of being an adult in a world that doesn’t want to make things easy for them. Even still, he’s sure people would look at him and look at Ian with the same type of lingering pity about them having a kid.

They’ve just managed to stabilize taking care of each other. Mickey’s actually better at that than he is at his job. Why topple the balance by complicating matters? Besides, Mickey never thought of a future where a kid was involved. When he was younger, he protected himself to the hilt because getting knocked up back then was about more than just teenage pregnancy. It would be waving the brightest red flag that he is gay and there would probably be a lot more than just blood on his father’s hands after he was done with him. Terry’s never going to be his problem again but even now that he's _with_ Ian, they’re careful. It’s not about diseases – they’ve been clean and faithful for long enough that Mickey’s lost count. It’s about the fact that if Ian does bottom, he’s on a whole bunch of meds that would fuck a kid up. Better safe than sorry. And in Mickey’s case…he’s…well, complicated. He’s a lot of things but the jury is still out on paternal. He’s not good at figuring out if he could handle people seeing him as vulnerable. Because that’s what he knows society thinks; any pregnant thing is vulnerable. That’s not a plane of existence he knows how to function on. It leaves him feeling like he’s spiraling out of control.

Checking his watch just in time to see the second hand beat into place, he licks his lip when he turns the test over to reveal the indicator window.

Pregnant.

He knew it but now he _knows_ it.

“Oh, fuck.”

***

There wasn’t a plan in place for when Mickey got home from work. His brain had shorted out a while ago and he hadn’t gotten that far.

But he’s sure that he didn’t plan on any of this.

It’s not Mickey’s fault.

He said he’d deal with his shit – _their_ shit – today but he hadn’t expected Ian to have been home before him. It happens often enough that it is always a possibility but he just hasn’t predicted it this time. It’s a perk he loves about Ian being able to make his own hours. Though, sometimes Ian’s gone for days if he’s got a big order to fill. Turns out, Ian finding out he’s good with his hands in ways other than X-rated ones isn’t just helpful to stabilizing his bipolar episodes. It’s also pretty good for their bank account. Building things is a way that keeps Ian’s mind and body busy; it helps that what he’s building happens to be appreciated by customers looking for well-constructed, unique furniture. The business waxes and wanes but he’s holding his head above water.

Today, he’s home earlier. It gives Mickey a jolt when he opens their apartment door to see his boyfriend standing there, nude aside for an apron Mickey’s never seen before. Ian’s cooking something on the stove and giving Mickey a stellar view of his naked ass. It distracts Mickey’s brain enough for him to appreciate the view.

Twisting to look over his shoulder, Ian smiles and his eyes get in on the action by curving up in the corners. “Hey, Mick.” His smile gets seemingly wider.

“Hey,” Mickey breathes out and follows the magnetic pull to the stove. His body needs to seek out the warmth around Ian and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward to press his font against Ian’s back and he leans to inhale him. Ian’s warm and smells like home. “Hey,” he says again, scooting closer and giving the slope in Ian’s neck a kiss. “Whatchu doing home?”

“Supplier sent me the wrong type of wood for the orders I’m working on. Now I get to do a whole bunch of waiting for the right stuff. Rather do my waiting here.” Ian twists so that they’re face to face. “Hoping you’d be home.” Tilting his head, he kisses Mickey with slow, drawn out movements. “Feeling better?”

Mickey lies with a nod of his head because kissing Ian is a better alternative to the truth right now. “What the fuck are you wearing?” He raises an eyebrow as he coasts a hand upwards over the apron until his palm slides up Ian’s neck and he can cup the man’s jaw. There is a kiss on the horizon but he’s waiting for a response before he gets to it.

Ian responds with an eye roll and gesture to the “Fuck the Cook” embroidery on the chest of the apron. “Your sister sent it a while back. Her version of a funny apartment warming gift.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous is what it is.” But Mickey laughs and goes in for a deeper kiss, slotting a leg between Ian so they can stay this close without losing their balance. “Kinda like what’s underneath though,” he whispers into the dip behind Ian’s ear.

“You better.” Ian grins and slips out of Mickey’s hold like the devious little shit he is. “I’m making pancakes.”

The words hang there and Mickey knows exactly what this is.

This is their version of chicken soup. It’s comforting food that’s warm and simple. It’s “you’ve been sick, this will make you feel better”. It’s also their “we’ve got no money so we’re eating pancakes three times a day” food, but lately it’s holding rank as their “feel better” food.

On a normal day, Mickey would make a comment about how there are other things on display that he’d rather eat but those thoughts die before they can get out of his mouth. He’s supposed to be talking to Ian, not getting screwed silly by him.

But that happens anyway.

The pancakes are shoved to the side and Mickey doesn’t know exactly how it happened but they’re going at each other with hungry kisses and hands searching for some type of reassurance. Mickey grabs at the ties to Ian’s apron and pulls them free, making it easy to lift it over his head and toss it to the floor. Backing Ian up against the kitchen counter, he cages him in as he rises up to kiss him. The gesture turns needy in a matter of seconds and they’re both roughly jerking his clothing off so that Ian isn’t the only one naked in their tiny kitchen area.

The bed is a handful of steps away but it takes them longer to get there than it should with the way they’re tripping over each other and refusing to stop fighting for dominance of the kiss.  Words fall away as they tumble onto the bed.

Mickey swallows down Ian’s moans and reaches up to pull Ian’s face closer so he can hold it there. His hips buck up, brushing their arousals together.

Ian meets each of Mickey’s actions with equal fervor, rough enough to make sure Mickey knows how much he wants it but slowed down at intervals to remind him that he’s still worried about him.

This is a surefire way they always find themselves back to where they belong. Sex makes sense to them. It’s when all the layers of the day or the shit that’s been piled on them fades away. Mickey’s figured out how to be comfortable being exposed and flayed open when he’s with Ian – whether it’s fucking or just making out until they fall asleep. It’s the first time all day that Mickey feels balanced.

“Fuck, Ian…” Mickey sighs and squeezes Ian’s ass, rolling up into him.

Ian gives a hum of contentment and flips them so that he’s pinning Mickey to the mattress and grinning down at him.

Looking up at Ian is almost enough to make him forget he’s supposed to be talking instead of falling apart when Ian spreads his legs wide and makes quick work of fingering him open. Ian’s fucking good at that. He’s got it down to a science. He’s got a way of lubing up his fingers and getting them into position without even breaking the cadence of the moment. There is relief the moment Ian’s first finger traces the edges of his entrance and then pushes inside. The action is confident and calculated, making Mickey’s head fall back against the pillow as a push of air leaves his lungs. It’s like Ian’s got his finger on a pressure valve and he’s bring Mickey back down to earth. Two fingers in Mickey’s a goner. By three fingers and skillful brushes against his prostate, Mickey is Ian’s.

“Fucking fuck me already,” Mickey croaks. He’s aware of how stupid his demand sounds but can’t stop it from tumbling out. He’s lost most intelligible thought anyway. “Give it to me hard. Think you can?” It’s a baited question, one he knows Ian will take hook, line and sinker.

Ian bites. He grabs Mickey’s shoulder and spins him, hoisting his hips up so that he’s on all fours with his legs spread out enough. There is the snick of him flicking the lube cap open and the tearing sound of a condom packet. The latter makes Mickey laugh because even though he’s pretty far gone, he sees the irony in Ian trying to use contraceptives. He lets himself go along with the façade and his head hangs between his shoulders when Ian pushes inside of him.

It’s like Ian’s dick has the magic words to unravel the stress of the day and send it packing. Mickey’s floating somewhere, arousal rolling around itself in his gut and his lungs trying to figure out how to keep working.

When he left work today, he didn’t think he’d be on all fours on their bed, Ian pounding into him in that perfect rhythm he’s mastered, breath pushing out of each of them in time with the other. But it’s perfect and _good_ and just maybe everything will be okay for them.

Maybe the pregnancy test is wrong.

Maybe they won’t fuck things up.

Maybe…

Then Ian loops his left arm around Mickey’s waist, palm landing directly on his middle and holding firmly. Ian’s fingers dig in deeper as his thrusts get faster. He’s grunting right beside Mickey’s ear, breathy, needy, love soaked noises that usually have Mickey hurdling towards orgasm because he loves the fact that he makes Ian fall apart. Right now, however, Mickey shivers as a cold sweat breaks out over his skin. Ian’s fingers press into his belly more firmly and Mickey feels like he’s going to pass out. It’s all in his head but he can’t stop reeling from the connection between where their baby is hidden and where Ian’s hand is focused. It’s too much.

“Ian…” Mickey lets out in a panicked gasp.

Ian doesn’t stop. Why would he? Mickey’s got a thing for shouting Ian’s name, just as Mickey likes hearing his own on Ian’s lips. Instead, Ian keeps up his pace, building each thrust.

“Ian!” Mickey tries again, his fingers scrambling at the bed. He feels like he can’t breathe and the world is closing in on him. He gasps and chokes on breath after breath, making it hard for him to get any actual oxygen into his lungs.

“Ian! Fucking stop! I can’t…I can’t…” He sputters out a garbled sound and feels his vision dim.

This time, Ian catches on immediately that something is wrong. He’s off Mickey so fast that it’s hard to believe he was balls deep in the man barely a second ago. “Mickey?” His hands try to turn Mickey so that he can get a good look at him but Mickey pulls himself away and launches for the small window above their bed. It’s tiny and old, too many coats of paint making it hard to open all the way. Mickey struggles to shove the window open but the best he can do is force it open a few inches. The air is cooler than what’s circulating the apartment and Mickey takes large gulps, gaping like a fish out of water.

Mickey’s aware that he’s having a full blown panic attack – a messy train wreck of a panic attack. He can’t catch his breath and he feels like he’s shivering all over. He still feels Ian’s hand pressing against his belly and he starts hyperventilating.

“Hey…woah…Mickey,” Ian starts as he situates himself on his knees beside his boyfriend. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. It’s okay.” He hushes soothingly and rubs his hands up and down Mickey’s back. “I’ve got you. Shh, just breathe. Yeah, that’s it.” Ian’s words are soft and slow, each one punctuated by fingertips stroking over his curved back. “It’s okay.”

“No it fucking is not.” Mickey’s breathing figures out how to be mostly under control, at least enough so that he can look towards Ian.

Shocked, Ian shakes his head. “Yeah it is. It’s okay. I’ve got you. _You’re okay_.” Ian kisses Mickey’s temple and frowns at the cold sweat he finds there. “What’s going on? Mick, you’re scaring me. You’re…” Ian trails off, wanting to cut Mickey open so he can crawl inside and figure things out without the words that Mickey always takes so much time to find.

There are plenty of other ways to go about this but Mickey’s spent. He’s got nothing left. The words leave his mouth like a heat seeking missile when he stares Ian down and shouts. “I’m fucking pregnant!”

The statement takes time sinking in, leaving Ian blinking at Mickey. When they finally hit, the red head mirrors Mickey’s original reaction to a T. “Oh fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these chapters are from Mickey's POV because I've been feeling that. We're going to get Ian's. Just...not yet.  
> Also - People in my family do deal with bipolar disorder and I am diagnosed with manic defensism (look it up, it's interesting) so some of the information about keeping your mind and body busy to help deal with it is tactics I use and my cousin too. So...I am just throwing that out there.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. What are the Chances?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Ian's POV.  
> Also - Ian and Mickey say "fuck" a lot. I say fuck a lot. This going to work out fine. LOL

Ian stares at Mickey for a lot longer than he realizes.

He just stares.

He can’t think of anything better to do while his heart turns over on itself and his stomach drops out. He should probably say something. Do something. Feel something other than “what the hell?”

Mickey’s chest is starting to rise and fall at unnatural intervals, hitching up in a shudder and repeating the action before he ever exhales completely. His head is cocked down enough so that he has to roll his eyes up slightly in order to meet Ian’s gaze and it’s like they’re locked onto each other. No one is breaking that type of eye contact.

A breeze flutters in from the window Mickey opened and brushes across Ian’s face. It breaks him out of his trance enough to dumbly squeak out, “What?”

“I’m fucking pregnant,” Mickey repeats.

“No…I mean…I heard the words. I just…I…huh – ” Ian knits his brows and sits back on his heels. Ian’s not an idiot. He actually did pretty well in biology but the question slips out of his mouth anyway. “ _How_?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mickey snorts, which Ian sees as a marked improvement from hyperventilating. “We have a shit ton of sex.” He raises an eyebrow at Ian and lets the words hang there.

Ian sighs in the back of his throat. Mickey’s not lying. They do have an exorbitant amount of sex, really toe curling good sex, the type of sex that says with you for days.  “But…condoms? I should take up stock in one of those companies. That’s how many condoms I buy.”

“Condoms have failure rates,” Mickey shrugs. “I took a test. It came up positive.”

It’s a moot point to argue the statistics at the moment because Mickey looks like he’s gearing up for another attempt to break out the window and Ian feels like the world’s worst confidant right now. He knows that condoms aren’t fool proof and they’ve sweetened those odd by having a few broken condoms in the past. They’ve gotten careless and complacent after monogamously fucking for so long. “Mick…” Ian breathes out, grabbing the other man’s wrist and tugging him. Everything falls into place with that simple gesture. It’s like they tumble into each other, equal amounts of push and pull from both partners. “Mick, we can – ”

Mickey cuts him off with a “shhh” and buries his face in the crook of Ian’s neck.  “Can we just not talk about it for a few minutes? Can we just be _us_ for a few minutes?” The “please” goes unvocalized but it is there in the way Mickey says the rest and the way he’s trying to crawl underneath Ian’s skin.

“Yeah, we can do that.” Ian clutches Mickey’s back, choosing to mimic his boyfriend and bury his face in the man’s neck. Inhaling the familiar scent of his boyfriend, he closes his eyes. He feels Mickey twist his head enough so that he can place a kiss on the spot just above Ian’s ear. Mickey’s lips linger there, making it impossible for Ian to not untuck his head from his neck so their lips can graze.

Their heartbeats fill the silence.

Ian shifts to pull Mickey down towards the bed with him. Laying on their sides, they keep their foreheads touching and try to keep eye contact without going cross-eyed. When they’re this close, Ian always gets a kick out of how hard it is to tell where one of them begins and the other ends. They press together so closely that they can feel the thrumming of each other’s blood.

Ian won’t let himself panic. He owes Mickey that.

He can handle that for the time being.

They breathe the same air and focus on the simple task of existing.

Ian’s on the cusp of something feverish, however. He can feel it pressing against his resolve to stay calm. It’s because Mickey’s worked up. The two of them are simultaneously useless and vital when it comes to situations like these. Mickey can handle everything that’s thrown at him, unless the thing thrown at him is Ian in the process of falling apart. Of course, Mickey’s a god damn superhero and puts on a brave front as he helps Ian put himself back together. Mickey’s the only one who can do that. It works the other way too. If Mickey gets beat down, Ian turns downright murderous. If Mickey’s off his game, Ian feels like his own legs have given out from under him. But there has never been a time either man was able to recover without the other. They’re strong enough to do that for each other now.

Wetting his lips, Ian wants to talk but he’s not sure what will come out. His brain is stuck on a loop of ridiculous questions like, “you’re really pregnant?” and he doesn’t think that will get them anywhere.

It hits him in the gut that the reason he’s so thrown off his game is the fact that Mickey’s unsettled. It isn’t the shock of an unplanned pregnancy or possibility of a baby. It’s Mickey.

It’s probably other things too but that’s what’s in the forefront.

Truth is, they’ve got their shit together right now. Sure, they’re living in a tiny studio apartment but it’s _their_ tiny apartment. It’s clean and safe; they don’t need much more than that. They’re living there more out of instinct than necessity. They may have moved away from where they were raised but the way they were raised is bone deep. Rather than live in excess, they rent a cheap studio and stock pile the rest of their earnings. Mickey’s job is pretty stable but Ian’s business is still getting off the ground. It’s better to play it safe than sorry.

Life is good; it’s not perfect but it’s way better than Ian could have dreamt about when he and Mickey almost botched everything. They had to move away from the shit pulling them down. Not far enough to cut every single tie, but far enough where it can be just the two of them if they want it to be. They’ve already spent too many years living underneath other people’s shit.

And now? Now they’ve got jobs, and cars and bills that they hate but pay on time. Sure their cars are a little rough around the edges but everything they hold stake to is. Ian’s van gets his supplies and furniture where they need to be and Mickey’s SUV hasn’t left him late to an appointment yet.

Ian’s got a doctor he sees on a monthly basis who has genuine concern for him.

It’s a modest life but it feels like they’re drawing rings around their old one.

Pulling back, Ian is able to take in Mickey’s whole face. His breathing seems to have stabilized and Ian can’t stay silent about things for much longer. “What do you wanna do about _it_?”

Mickey curls his lip a fraction. “What do _you_ wanna do about it?”

“I asked you first.”

“Ian, come on. I…” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sidetracks himself. “It’s fucking weird…okay? It’s weird that we’re having this conversation. I just…after all the shit…my dad…me…you…I didn’t think we’d have this conversation. I just…” he trails off with an vague gesture of his hands.

“Didn’t think we’d have a kid?” Ian clarifies.

Mickey rolls his eyes up and away from Ian’s. “Didn’t think _I_ would have a kid. Me. Like…in my body.”

“Yeah, so you didn’t think _we’d_ have a kid.” Ian repeats.

“Aww, common man. Don’t do this. It’s not like that. It’s not…” Mickey puffs up his cheeks and blows out a solid exhale. “Why? You want a kid?” His eyebrow is up again and he pulls back like the thought shocks him.

“I dunno. Maybe.” Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. He hasn’t seriously thought about it one way or the other, giving him no right to speak in absolutisms. He likes kids but there are a million things he needs to factor into that decision now that he’s living a life where it could even be a decision.

This time, Mickey’s eyes go wider. “You fucking kidding me?”

“Why? Is that so fucking shocking? That maybe, _maybe_ , in a world where our lives aren’t shit, I would want a kid?” Ian bristles.

Mickey’s silent for a moment. “I didn’t think you wanted one. Ever.” He goes quiet again and chews his bottom lip. “I thought just being you and me was good enough. I didn’t know you wanted to find someone else for that.”

“I’d want a kid with _you_ Mick.” Ian takes a second to realize that, for some unbeknownst reason, Mickey hasn’t put two and two together. “You fucking idiot…of course with you. If I was ever going to have a kid, it’d be with you.” He wants to punch Mickey for being so ridiculous but he grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles instead. “You fucking idiot,” he whispers.

“Fuck you,” Mickey chides but doesn’t pull his hand away. He still looks skittish but grounds himself when Ian hooks him around the waist and pulls him closer. Snug against Ian’s frame, Mickey relaxes and burrows into Ian’s neck.

Ian combs his fingers through Mickey’s hair, loving the way the dark strands stand out against the pallor of his skin. “How could you think it would be anyone other than you?” Ian adds for reassurance, “It’d only be you.”

Mickey wiggles his hand into Ian’s fist so that his pointer finger can trace the sensitive skin along Ian’s palm. After a while, he mouths “I know,” into Ian’s neck.

That part is a relief. They _need_ to know the bounds of their relationship even if they have momentary lapses of senselessness.

“There isn’t anyone I’d _ever_ have a kid with,” Mickey starts, voice abrasive before it softens enough to finish, “that isn’t you.” He snorts. “Just so we’re clear, tough guy.”

“We’re clear.”

“I never thought about kids…well, having them. Myself. I just…” He squirms enough to let Ian know he’s uneasy by it. “Come on, Ian. Me? Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks to no one. “I’m... _me_ ,” he states, like it helps to answer anything.

“I like _you_ ,” Ian retorts.

“You know what I mean.”

Ian does. He gets it. They’re not selfless enough to fill the role of parents right now. It’s also weird for him to picture Mickey pregnant. It’s not _bad_ , it’s just new and he doesn’t know what to make of it. But he understands what Mickey’s getting at. Returning to the original question, Ian whispers, “so, what do you want to do about it?”

“I dunno,” Mickey starts before pausing to think. “I’ve been trying to figure that out all afternoon. And I still don’t know. I…think…maybe go to the clinic? Get checked out? See what’s really going on? Make sure I’m right?”

Everything sounds like a question and Ian knows it shouldn’t. Mickey’s right. Ian knows that Mickey wouldn’t have said anything if deep down he didn’t know he was right. “Yeah, okay. Clinic. We can call tomorrow.” He tangles their legs together. “I can shift my work week around. Make an appointment whenever you’ve got time.”

Mickey recoils and his defenses go up. “I don’t need you to go with me.”

“No one said you did.” Ian does punch Mickey this time, right in the shoulder. “But I want to come. Make sure no one gets any ideas about taking you away from me.”

That gets a laugh out of Mickey and it breaks all the tension in the room. “Yeah, yeah. You get a kick out of that don’t you? Want me to tattoo IAN’S right in the middle of my forehead? I beat you’d fucking like it.” He laughs again and raises both eyebrows.

Ian returns the laughter. “It’s alright, you can put MICKEY’S on my forehead. We’d be a matching pair of idiots.”

“I’d put it on your dick.” There is another laugh from Mickey, this time warmer than the first. “That’s the best thing about you.”

“Yeah, well, then I wouldn’t want my name on your face. I’d rather put it on your ass. Or give you a nice big tramp stamp.” Ian waggles his brows and for the moment he feels like they’ll wade out of the weighty issues pressing down on them.

They’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I have more angst coming up. But let me know what you think. These chapters are short but the others should be longer.  
> I don't know if I should switch between their POV's in different chapters. I wanted this one to be Ian's. I appreciate thoughts and comments. :-)


	4. On the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian actually get medical confirmation and weigh their odds.

Mickey groans the moment consciousness hits him. His brain is foggy enough to leave him confused about why he’s even awake in the first place. Having moved all his work obligations to alternate days this week, he figured he’d at least allow himself to sleep in.

At least that was the plan before he passed out last night. He deliberately didn’t set an alarm prior to burying himself in the blankets and curling around Ian.

He’s still curled around Ian, arm slung over the man’s hip and face tucked into his neck, but Mickey’s body is forcing wakefulness on him. Blinking a few times, Mickey comes to the sinking realization of what actually woke him up. “Aww shit,” he mumbles when his stomach twists up in a knot. Pushing up from the bed, he trips over his own feet as he scrambles to the bathroom, catching the wall before lowering himself to the ground. Thankfully, the toilet lid is up because Mickey wouldn’t have had time to deal with it. His body goes tense and he vomits gracelessly into the porcelain bowl. Chest heaving as he retches several times more, throat burning to bring up little more than bile. He doesn’t sit back on his heels until he’s sure he’s done. This whole getting sick thing is new but it’s getting old _real_ fast.

Getting to his feet, Mickey splashes cold water on his face and takes his time dragging a towel over the damp skin. He groans into the cotton and hides there. It’s not like he can actually hide from the fact that he knows what caused him to get sick but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the very real changes he’s being launched into. Groaning one last time, he throws the towel over the edge of the sink and hauls himself back to the bed.

Ian’s awake, propped up on his right elbow so that that he can watch Mickey return. He’s got some impressive bed hair, squinting in a way that Mickey always thinks looks pretty cute on him. “You sick again?”

“No, I’m fucking fantastic,” Mickey responds, lathering up the sarcasm. He sits on the edge of the bed and scratches at the back of his head.

Ian starts, “Is it because of – ”

Mickey cuts him off, answering the question before it’s even audible. “Yeah.” He turns to face Ian and can’t exactly read the expression on Ian’s face. It’s somewhere between curious and concerned; Mickey needs something lighter than those moods right now. Putting his palm over as much of Ian’s face as he can, he playfully pushes him down to the mattress. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh yeah, okay. Sure,” Ian swats at Mickey’s hand. His words are heavy with mockery, “Sure. I’ll just not worry about the fact that I knocked you up.”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that.” Mickey curls his lip. It feels weird to hear that phrase spoke aloud when it’s directed at him.

“Got a feeling you’d have the same reaction no matter how I say it.” Ian puts his arms behind his head and gives his boyfriend a sympathetic smile.

Mickey knows Ian’s right. Pile that on top of the fact they’re going to the clinic today and Mickey’s feeling all kinds of uncomfortable. He reaches towards the bedside table and snags a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he lights it. When he breathes deep, he holds the smoke in his mouth for a moment before filling his lungs with it. Ian kicks him in the thigh, a move he should have been able to predict. He throws Ian the middle finger and blows a puff of smoke at him. “ _I know_. I just need this right now, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Ian pushes himself into a seated position so he can steal the cigarette and take his own drag. “I’m nervous too, you know.”

“I know.” Mickey let’s Ian hang onto the cigarette for a while longer. “You doing okay?” The question is heavy, one that’s been asked far too often. Ian’s been good for a long time but Mickey still gets twitchy when he watches new stressors being introduced into his boyfriend’s life.

“Honestly?” Ian licks his lips and shrugs. “I’m neutral, I think. I’m not _okay_ but I’m not _not_ okay. And I think that’s kinda normal given the circumstances.” He pauses as if considering things for a moment before his lips curl around the cigarette. He slowly places it back between Mickey’s lips. “You suck on that for a bit.” He rolls so he can shimmy down the bed on his belly. “I’d rather suck on other things.”

Eyes going wide, Mickey watches Ian yank his boxers down and make good on his plan. “Shit,” escapes around the cigarette as he thumps his head back against the headboard and moans.

He can get on board with this.

***

Mickey’s bouncing his leg in such quick, compact movements that it’s a wonder he’s not wearing a hole in the waiting room carpet. He’s doing better than Ian, who might hate waiting rooms more than anyone he knows. To be fair, Ian spends at least once a month in one of them and they’ve had some pretty shitty times in and around waiting rooms. Those type of residual memories always muck up the whole routine of seeing a doctor. “You didn’t have to come,” he states soft enough so that only Ian’s ears can pick it up.

“I told you, I wanted to.” Ian brushes his finger through his hair. As he’s about to bring his hand back to his lap, Mickey catches hold of it, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles.

“You okay?”

Ian nods. “Mmm hmm. You?” He mimics a modified action similar to Mickey’s, tracing his thumb over the pulse points in the man’s wrist.

“Fucking nauseous,” Mickey huffs out with a shake of his head. “But not because of _that_. It’s ‘cause I’m tense, that’s all.”

There is a noise from the door beside the reception desk, drawing everyone’s attention. A nurse steps out and give an uncertain scan of the room. “Milkovich?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Mickey says as he holds up a finger. He gets to his feet and looks down at Ian to find the other man in a tense seated position. Without any explanation, he yanks Ian’s arms, pulling him to his feet and along with him towards the nurse.

The woman smiles, a thin professional curve of her lips. “Oh, he doesn’t have to come.”

Mickey raises both eyebrows at her and tilts his head forward. “Nah. He does.”

“Ahh, well, okay,” the nurse stammers as she mentally assesses the situation. She leaves a question hanging between them. “And he is?”

“Partner,” Ian answers without missing a beat and Mickey loves him for it. He loves that Ian’s using that word because it’s Mickey’s word. It’s the word Mickey likes. It’s more powerful than just saying “boyfriend” which doesn’t seem capable of capturing everything that they are. They’re more than that and sometimes it’s important to Mickey that other people get that. Like right now. Right now Mickey needs to make sure that people know this isn’t a solitary appointment and he loves Ian for the fact that Ian thinks that way too.

Understanding blooms on the nurse’s face and she nods. “Okay then. Follow me.” She leads them down a corridor, past a handful of closed doors before they’re escorted into a vacant room. Gesturing between Mickey and the exam table, she says, “take a seat.” She makes the same gesture between Ian and a chair in the corner.

Mickey hops up on the table, eliciting crunching when his weight disturbs the sterile paper covering. His feet swing a bit off the ground like they always do and his gut reaction is to feel like a child. It’s stupid, bearing in mind why he’s here in the first place; he hasn’t been a child for ages.

“I just need to ask some questions and take a few vitals, if that’s okay? Routine stuff. Medical info, get your temperature, blood pressure,” she rattles off.

Shrugging in acceptance, Mickey sticks out his arm and lets her throw a blood pressure cuff around it. He’s equally complacent about having the thermometer placed under his tongue.

“Thanks,” she says while typing away at the computer station in the room. She clicks through a few screens and asks Mickey run of the mill medical information. He doesn’t know a lot of the answers about family medical history but he gives her as much information as he feels comfortable with. When she’s done, she turns to Mickey with the same professional smile she greeted him with. “Your file was earmarked for a pregnancy test. So I’m going to need a urine sample...and blood too.” She says the last bit like she’s not sure how the overall reception of the request is going to go.

Mickey flinches. “Already peed on a fucking stick. That’s why we’re here – ”

Ian’s voice fills the room in a blanketing warning, “Mick.” It’s not too overpowering but it is a comforting reminder that Ian’s there.

“Sorry, Mr. Milkovich. It’s standard procedure,” The nurse’s smile is more genuine this time when she gives the apology. “I’ll be real quick. I promise to get the vein on the first try.”

Mickey rolls his eyes and snorts his surrender. He holds out his arm again, exposing the underside of his elbow. “Fucking fine.” He doesn’t look at the nurse do her job. The real thing that’s bothering him about the situation isn’t having a needle in his vein. It’s more than the fact that he doesn’t like when other people make him bleed. What bothers him is the fact that he’s being fussed over and it makes him squirm. Thankfully, the nurse was true to her word. She’s already pulling away and he’s got a pathetic bandage over the withdrawal site. A plastic sample cup is shoved in his face.

“Use the bathroom two doors to your right. You can leave it on the counter there when you’re done. I’ll come retrieve it,” the nurse says with her plastic smile back in place. “Okay, my job here is done. Have a good afternoon.”

As soon as the door closes behind her, Mickey feels his facial muscles twitching. The room feels ten times smaller. Suddenly, Ian’s filling his vision and prying his white knuckled grip off the sample cup.

“Hey,” Ian breathes out. “Hey, you’re okay.” His hands find their way to Mickey’s face and he holds him so that their foreheads are pressed together.

Self-preservation tactics unearth themselves and Mickey tries to shove Ian away, as if letting Ian comfort him now makes him pathetic. It doesn’t. He knows that. But right now it’s hard; he’s got some raw nerves exposed and it’s making him jumpy.

“Don’t do that,” Ian scolds, holding tighter and undeterred by Mickey’s attempts to shove him off.

“Not do’in anything,” Mickey mumbles.

“Yes you are. You fucking know you are.” Ian shake his head and presses his lips to Mickey’s. “Don’t slip away and shut me out. You’re okay. Whatever goes on in here, _it’s okay_.”

For a moment, Mickey goes limp and avoids eye contact. He comes back to himself and rolls his eyes up to meet Ian’s. “No, you’re right. I’m being a whiny little shit.” He laces his fingers behind Ian’s neck and pulls him in for a reassuring kiss. The moment is quick and sweet but Mickey can feel his legs again, at least enough to walk him to the bathroom. “I’ll try to be less of a bitch.” Mickey pets Ian’s hair down and gets to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t make me send help,” Ian chides. He leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

Mickey fulfills his task like he’s in a trance. He shuffles in and out of the rooms and is seated back on the exam table staring at the hazardous waste container. He’s not sure who initiated it but the paper on the exam table crinkles and Ian’s sitting next to him now, their thighs touching.

They both stay quiet, allowing the doctor entering the room to startle both of them. She’s looking down at a manila folder when the door opens but she looks up quickly. “Good afternoon! I’m Dr. Fretto.” She holds out a hand and moves her gaze between the two men. “Mr. Milkovich?”

“That’d be me.” Mickey takes her hand and shakes. The doctor isn’t giving off the same vibes as the nurse, making Mickey relax. He doesn’t hate her right off the back, which is probably going to work out best for the both of them. “You can call me Mickey.”

“Okay, Mickey it is then. You can call me Katie. Dr. Fretto is my father. And my mother…and….It’s a long story.” She nods and smiles. Her eyes land on Ian and she holds a questioning hand out toward him. “And you are?”

“Ian.” He shakes her hand. “His partner.”

“It’s nice to meet you Ian.” She sets the file on the counter and glances at it one more time. Humming to herself, she turns to face Mickey. “So, you’re here because you think you’re pregnant.”

Mickey nervously scratches at the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“Any reasons for thinking that?”

“I dunno..just…felt _off_ . You know?” Katie says nothing, making Mickey realize it’s an invitation to elaborate. “I feel sick sometimes…for no reason.” He stammers in an attempt to make the words coming out of his mouth sound less like the ramble they’re becoming. “I feel _weird_.”

That gets a laugh out of the doctor. “Yeah, pregnancy can be kind of weird.” She jots down something. “You throwing up?”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“How often?”

“Every day for a few days,” Mickey admits. He catches the way Ian rears back slightly in surprise. Turning towards Ian, he whispers, “I thought it was nothing. I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t hide it from you when I started to think it probably wasn’t nothing.”

Ian doesn’t get a chance to respond because Katie cuts through the tension for them. “How long have you two been together?”

Mickey’s caught off guard by that. He turns towards the doctor with wide eyes. “What?”

Tapping the file on the counter with her pen, Katie smiles. “Records. I don’t mean to be intrusive. You don’t have to tell me. But it’s a better idea if you do…since we’re talking pregnancy and all.” She uses the pen to tap a rhythm into her palm.

“Six years, give or take,” Ian answers.

Katie dips her head in appreciation for the honesty and she scribbles something into the file. “And the other father would be?” She leaves the question out there with no assumption.

Ian and Mickey answer at the same time, Ian raising a palm and saying, “me” while Mickey points towards the younger man with the declaration of “him.”

“Okay then. So…” Katie flips through pages in the file. “I’m pretty certain that you are in fact pregnant. The urine test came back positive but we’ve got a blood test in the works just in case since male pregnancies can be a little bit trickier to pin down. I want to do an ultrasound to see what’s going on inside you; that should definitely answer our question one way or another.”

Mickey’s lips part dumbly and his mouth hangs slightly ajar. The room feels too small again and he finds himself grabbing onto Ian’s hand so he can dig his nails into the meat of Ian’s palm. “Ian,” he exhales in a whisper he’s not even sure the other man can hear.

Of course, Ian does. He squeezes back a sign that it’s okay.

Maybe it’s intuition or Katie is just that good at her job, but she fades into the background for a moment. She lets the men have time for everything to sink in while she messes around with the ultrasound cart and gets things situated.

Before long, Mickey’s back in a trance and moving on autopilot while Ian hovers around the room like he’s looking for a purpose. His shirt is shoved up and his pants tugged down but he doesn’t remember going through those motions.

Ultrasounds are a new thing for Mickey.  He’s not used to the routine of the cold gel and the pressure of the transducer. He’s completely silent as Katie does a thorough job of talking him through everything she is doing and pushes the transducer wand around his stomach. Static black and white images fill the screen the doctor is intensely focusing on. He can’t make out anything in the mess but when Katie stops the wand completely, he thinks maybe he can. He thinks maybe the thing he’s looking at isn’t supposed to be there. It’s too human looking. “Shit.”

Dr. Fretto raises an eyebrow at Mickey’s appropriately timed expletive.  “You’re definitely pregnant.”

Mickey looks down at his gel shined stomach like it has double crossed him.  His eyes knit together and he scowls, chest rising and falling faster.

He’s pregnant.

He’s _pregnant_.

 _HE_  is pregnant.

His eyes dart to Ian and then back to his middle.  He can’t hold onto false hope that the at home pregnancy test was wrong.  It’s official.  He has a person growing in his extremely fucked up womb.

It all happens in a matter of seconds but he feels like he’s been in his own head for an hour.  He can’t seem to focus on anything but his middle, the part of him that has just committed the ultimate betrayal.  The gel makes his abdomen look like it’s rounded out slightly, but he swears that must be his mind playing a trick on him now that he knows there is something underneath. But no, it’s not his mind. It’s there. Looking down at himself, he wonders how he didn’t pick up on it.

The doctor moves the transducer again and presses down more firmly.  It doesn’t hurt but the movement shocks Mickey back to reality.  She traces a part of the screen with her free hand. “It looks good. Attached itself firmly against the uterine wall right over here. And that,” she pauses to move the transducer a fraction, “is the skull.”  She pointed to the fetus on the screen and traces the head’s side profile.  “Urine tests are iffy with males, but...there it is.”

Mickey licks his lips, his mouth having gone dry.  “Yeah, there it is.”  He stares at the screen and the baby moves. It startles him and makes him shiver despite not actually feeling it. That “weird” sensation he described earlier is turning out to have only been a warm up to what he’s feeling now. His eyes are glued to the screen and the baby shifts again.

“Those are its legs, see,” Katie says as she traces an appendage with the butt of her pen. “And those are arms.” The doctor goes back to studying the screen, moving the transducer and capturing different images, seeing things Mickey isn’t. “Seriously, the baby looks really good. Completely healthy, which is always a relief after going without prenatal care for 12 weeks.”

Mickey swallows hard but in the end it is Ian’s voice that fills the room.

“What?!”  Ian is leaning forward, still hovering over Mickey but leaning closer to the screen, as if that will help everything make sense.

“The fetus is measuring a fraction over 12 weeks.  You’re through the first trimester, which is an accomplishment in itself given the risk factors here. The fetus is a bit on the small side, not alarmingly so, but it looks healthy. ” Katie flips a switch and a whooshing sound fills the room. “Sounds good too.”

“What the fuck is that?” Mickey feels dizzy. There is something inside him with arms. With legs. With a head. It looks like a goddamn person. It wasn’t supposed to look like a person. His eyes go to Ian but the other man looks shell shocked as he sinks down into the chair he’d been seated in earlier.

“That’s the heartbeat. It sounds alien, I know, but babies’ hearts beat faster than yours or mine.”

The heartbeat infiltrates Mikey’s brain and he feels claustrophobic.  “12 weeks?”  12 weeks is a long time.  He’s had this thing in him for 12 weeks and didn’t even know.

Nodding, the doctor looks down at him.  “Give or take a few days.”

The whooshing sound drowns everything else out and Mickey pushes himself off the table, forcing the transducer away and consequently stopping the sound of the baby’s heartbeat.  Everything seems hazy and his brain can’t get a grasp on the severity of what is happening. Ian is on his feet in an instant, reaching out to help steady Mickey.

Mickey scans the room and spots a small garbage can in the corner of the room. Grabbing it, he gives into the feeling that has been growing in his gut since the waiting room, and throws up.

It’s not his fault. It’s the first thing on the list of events to come that he is blaming on the baby.

***

Mickey cancels the jobs he has scheduled for the next two days. It’s not because he’s sick; physically, he feels pretty good, it’s the mental part of being a functioning part of society that he hasn’t gotten control of yet.

The thing inside of him wasn’t supposed to be a little person. It was supposed to be a blob, like he’s seen in movies. The fact that it’s been alive for over 12 weeks and it’s clearly human looking pulls his brain in two different directions.

Ian’s been good about it. He’s let the silence fall between them like a medical necessity. He’s not pushing and Mickey feels like shit about that. He feels like Ian should push. It’s what he does. But he’s thankful for the fact that Ian understands him enough to know that this is one of those times that pushing him will only serve to destroy him.

Mickey knows it might be immature, but he doesn’t feel like facing the world right now.  He has a million decisions to make and the nagging in his own brain is enough for him to deal with. He doesn’t need to add medical statistics and heartstrings into the mix.  The comfort and solitude of his bed has been a much easier pill to swallow than actually dealing with the heavy shit he knows he is going to have to face eventually.

“Mick?”

“Hmm?”  Mickey pushes himself up from the bed, turning to face Ian before falling back to the pillow dejectedly.

Ian’s flushed, a telltale sign he’s been out running. He stands over Mickey, peeling off a hoodie to reveal a tank top that’s practically hanging off one shoulder. “You can’t stay in bed for the rest of your life.”  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ian runs one hand through his damp hair.

“I totally can if you stay here with me.”

Ian’s laugh is weak.  “Mick…I’m being serious.”

Sighing and rolling onto his back, his voice is whisper quiet when he admits.  “I think…I think I am too.”

Shaking his head slowly, Ian huffs in disagreement.  “You really don’t want to do that. Trust me. I’ve been there. You’ve been there with me. It doesn’t solve anything.”

The logical part of Mickey’s brain knows Ian is right but that part stopped working three days ago. “You going to keep hitting the pavement too? You going to keep running?”

“That’s fucking different and you know it.” Ian rolls his eyes in frustration. “I know you think you can keep ignoring this or hope that maybe it will just go away.  But it won’t.  You’ll still be pregnant.  This isn’t one of your mind-over-matter issues you get to skirt around.  You have to decide what you want to do.  The baby isn’t just going to go away.”

“What if it does?” And there is is. Suddenly, the wounds are open and out on display.

“Huh?”

“What if I…if I can’t…”  Mickey pauses and pushes himself up into a sitting position.  “It’s a risk, right? The doc said so. It could just all…go…away.”  He sits cross legged and arches his back, trying to relieve some of the tension in his middle.

Ian reels back and looks at him like the words just slapped him in the face.  Disbelief is evident in his words.  “That is your plan?  Sit and wait for something to happen?  Don’t stop it, don’t cause it?  Just wait?” 

“I don’t know.  Maybe.”  Mickey takes a deep breath as he tries to gain composure.  “I don’t know Ian.”  His voice goes quiet and he withdraws into himself for a moment. He doesn’t _want_ to deal with things. He’s gotten better over the years but he’s never been good at gearing up to break the seal on issues he needs to deal with. Ian’s looking at him and it gives Mickey a chance to give the man a once over. Ian looks like Ian but he’s memorized every part about him and can pick up on the differences, right around his eyes.  They’re darker underneath and more sunken than usual. It’s nothing the average person would pick up, but Mickey sees it. Ian’s not sleeping, which is fucking fantastic because Mickey’s pretty sure he might be responsible for that. “You’re getting too skinny,” he says instead of what he really means to say. He swore he’d told his brain to say, “I’m sorry that I’m being a shit. I’m sorry I am locking you out. It’s not you. It’s me.” But none of that gets shared.

“Yeah, well...I’ll eat a fucking sandwich. Don’t change the subject.” Ian snorts. “Seriously?  You, who doesn’t let anyone tell you what to do...you’re just going to do nothing?”

Mickey stares Ian down, eyes intense but voice weak.  “We could fuck it up.”

“Which part?” Ian’s voice goes up in confusion.

“All of the parts. Everything. Fuck up what decision we should make. Fuck up the kid if we even have one.” Taking a deep breath, Mickey shivers when he exhales. “It could fuck _us_ up.”

Ian’s goes quiet at that. It’s struck some chord and they both stare. When he breaks the silence, it’s with truth rather than a cliche reassurance. “A lot of things could fuck us up.”

“This is different.” Averting his eyes, Mickey focuses on the bed sheets. A lot of things already did fuck them up. Hell, they had to move across the state to bury some of those things. Mickey sometimes wonders how many lives they’ve got left in them. Usually he doesn’t. Usually he thinks they’ve grown new ones, learned more with age. “It’s different,” he whispers again.

“How?  How is it different?”  Ian’s words aren’t heated but they are filled with his need to know what the other man is thinking.

“It just is Ian. I could fuck it up without even trying. I could... _my body_ could...kill it. Or...I could kill it. You know? Decide to abort it. And then I’d have to look at you and think…” He doesn’t finish his thought, instead Mickey tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling before letting out a laugh in disbelief. “I mean, come on Ian, a baby? Really?  We didn’t want one, right? You were warned about having on...about passing down your bipolar. About Monica and you and…” He won’t look Ian in the eyes, which is a cowardice move but he’s taking it. “Are we seriously having this discussion?”

Ian flinches. “Yeah, well I’m sorry!  You’re right! I guess ignorance is a much better option than actually discussing something like two fucking adults.  What was I thinking?  I’m sorry.  My mistake.”  The anger that has been close to boiling over the edge finally reveals itself. It’s not aimed at Mickey, they both know that, but the situation is making it hard to not lash out impulsively.

“Ian…”  Mickey reaches out a hand but Ian ducks away from his touch.

“No Mickey.  I love you, you know I do.  But I need to understand what you’re thinking...I need you to understand what we’re dealing with right now.  I need you to stop running.  Just stop running and we can figure this out…whatever you want to do, we’ll figure it out. We’ll do it.”  Ian’s voice hitches on the edge of desperation.  “Just stop running.”

Under the anger Ian has for the situation, Mickey sees something else burning at the surface; it’s gleaming in his eyes. It’s selflessness and love, mastered after so many years of trying to find that balance. Ian will risk absolutely anything to keep him happy and safe. Ian isn’t trying to make Mickey feel one way or the other. He loves Mickey enough to let the man make the decision he is most comfortable with on his own.  Mickey’s voice is small when he finds power to speak. “What do you want me to do Ian?”

Ian shakes his head slowly. “It’s not my decision to make.”

“It kind of is.

“Nope…not my body.” Ian’s hands go up in protest.

“Regardless…If you could choose, what would _you_  do?  What do  _you_  want me to do?”

“I don’t know Mick.  I don’t know, just like you don’t know.”  Ian sighs and runs a hand through his hair again.  “In a perfect world?  I think I want this baby.” He smiles for a second and gives all his thoughts away. It’s gone in an instant, masked by something unreadable. ”But we live in the real world with very real obstacles and...I want you and _us_ and what we have more than I want the baby.”

“And if I wanted the baby?”  The words feel awkward on his tongue.

“Then we would have a baby.”  Ian shrugs like it is the simplest conclusion in the world.

Mickey wants to believe him but he’s already heard the risks and he can’t get them out of his head. “What if I can’t?  What if I can’t carry a baby long enough? Katie said….she said it happens more often in male pregnancies. Spon-spontaneous miscarriage or whatever the fuck it’s called.”

Picking up on the self-doubt in Mickey’s tone, Ian’s eyes go soft. “I think you could.  You’ve done some pretty unprecedented things before.  You’ve been given you hurdles your whole life and you’ve blown them all away.”  He reaches out a hand and stokes the inside of Mickey’s forearm.  “Remember when I was real low, after you came out for me and the days later when I wouldn’t get out of bed? Remember when you told Fiona that it wouldn’t be impossible to take care of me. Everyone fucking thinks it’s impossible but not you. Never you. You didn’t give up...god knows I didn’t deserve that sometimes...but I got better. It wasn’t impossible to you.”  He looks up at Mickey and catches the man’s uncertain expression. 

“You heard all that?” Mickey can't stop himself from blushing over his sentiment being caught. Emotions he thought he'd tamed come crashing into him and he feels wobbly. It's always hard to bring up the dark times but it's something they force themselves to do; it helps remind them that they're human, they’re alive and they can be both fragile and unbreakable.

“I was depressed, Mick. Not deaf.” Ian shakes his head and rubs a hand over Mickey’s knee. “I have a disorder, but there’s nothing wrong with me. You told me that. You did that. You have no idea just how much you’re capable of. You’re fucking amazing.”

“Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who thinks that.”  He huffs and scoots closer to Ian. Ian’s words sink in, speeding his pulse and making his heart feel like it’s radiating warmth with each beat. “You do know that just because we decide to have a baby, it doesn’t mean that we’ll actually end up with one?”

“Yeah, I know.  I heard all the same risks and concerns you did.”

“I might miscarry.”

“You don’t actually know that.  But if you wanted to try, then we try.  I know the odds and they’re nowhere close to impossible.  And if you do miscarry, then we deal with that.”  Ian tugs Mickey closer.  “And that would be okay too…if you wanted to try but we find out you can’t.”

“Yeah well...look at us. What if we did have one. Right? Think we could do that?”

Ian opens his mouth but let's himself think before answering earnestly. “I dunno.” Ian words leave his mouth like a challenge as he looks straight into Mickey. “Do you know?”

“No,” Mickey states bluntly because he has no fucking clue. They don't have a support system larger than each other; it would be just the two of them. They don't have their shit nearly as together as Mickey thinks they would need to in order to pull this off without repeating mistakes from their own experiences being patented. “And if I want to abort it?”  Mickey pulls upright.

“Then we do that.  We wouldn’t have to worry about miscarriages or fucking up.  We keep you - _us_ \- safe.”  Ian finally reaches out to pull Mickey to his chest, lifting his chin up so their bodies fit together almost perfectly.

Mickey collapses into boyfriend and curls his body around him. The baby they had just been debating over is sandwiched between their two bodies and he pulls Ian closer.  They stay like that in silence for at least ten minutes before Mickey finds the courage to speak.  “Ian?”  His voice cracks when the tears start fighting to break free for the first time. There is too much on the line. Too many fractures in stability and confidence. Too many pills sitting on the counter and Mickey can't imagine a world where he loses Ian, a kid, or both of them to something he can't handle. “Ian?” He’d aware of how broken his voice sounds.

“Yeah?”  Ian’s words are spoken into  Mickey’s hairline so he can inhale his scent.

“I think I want it gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked the chapter.  
> I had this story written but it was like 9K and suddenly I realized that it kept evolving so I started reworking it.  
> I would be so thankful for idea from readers or things that you guys would like to see happen in this story. Please, I would be honored if you shared your thoughts.  
> *hugs*


	5. Through the Motions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mickey throwing up a lot is basically inspired by my completely bad ass friend who pretty much threw up every single day of her first pregnancy.  
> And, yeah, Mickey knows drinking and smoking are not pregnancy friendly.

Rewiring kitchens sucks sometimes. Mickey took the job a week ago knowing it would be stable employment for a few days while he figured things out but also aware that it would suck. In his experience, kitchens are complicated. People keep changing their minds and wanting things in different places. They want more outlets. More light switches. He’s in the attic, he’s back in the kitchen, then exiled to the attic again because the client just had another brilliant idea.

He doesn’t complain. It’s good money for honest work but sometimes it sucks.

Today is one of those days.

The kitchen he’s working in isn’t done being remodeled yet, which means there are plenty of opportunities for everything to change five hundred times. He’s been told that the owner of the house wants a ceiling fan and series of mounted lights installed in the kitchen, so he’s back in the attic making that happen. He usually doesn’t mind this part, when he’s all alone in the attic with nothing to distract him from the task at hand.

Except, today there is.

His mind is short-circuiting, which Mickey supposes is better than the house short-circuiting. Inside his brain there is a ten car pileup with casualties and he doesn’t know how to sort any of it out. He wanted to stay home today but he’d done enough of that. He had actual work to do and pushing it off was just going to lead to a clusterfuck of working sunup till sundown for days on end.

He figured work would keep his mind off the fact that he’s getting an abortion tomorrow.

His plan is failing miserably.

All he can think about is the fact that tomorrow Ian’s driving him to rip their kid out. It’s cruelly appropriate that when they scheduled the appointment, the clinic made it absolutely clear that Mickey couldn’t drive himself home and needed an “escort”. He and Ian got themselves into this predicament together; they’re going to go through the trenches of it together too. He can’t stop thinking about that. About Ian. About the fact that pieces of Ian are inside him. They’re all jumbled up with pieces of himself and he wonders if anyone can tell whether the right pieces decided to get together and make their kid. It could be all the wrong pieces.

He hates himself for thinking like that because there are no _wrong_ pieces of Ian, there is just difficult pieces.

And now he’s going to kill those pieces.

His brain gets distracted and he misjudges his placement of the wire strippers before clamping them down. Unfortunately, his right thumb impedes them from closing all the way, making Mickey hiss in pain. “Mother fucker!” Surveying the damage, Mickey notices he’s broken skin but it’s not worthy of anything more than a good cleaning and a bandage. “Shit,” he mutters, sticking his thumb in his mouth to clear the blood just to make sure that’s all he needs.

Leaving his tools, he starts to make his way down the attic ladder so that he can rinse it out in the kitchen sink. By the time he gets there, blood is dripping down his finger again and he sticks it under a cold tap till it runs clean. The blood swirls down the drain, a simple detail but it makes Mickey’s stomach flip inside out. When he closes his eyes, he still sees the blood on the back of his eyelids, only his mind’s eye makes it into a brighter pool of blood. It leaves him feeling sick, and he gags once before he knows what’s going to happen. Gripping the sink, he vomits his breakfast down the drain, shoulders shaking as he holds himself up.

In the open space of the kitchen, his retching echoes loudly enough to reach other parts of the house. Mickey doesn’t even notice. Even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He can’t think of anything other than being a bystander while his body tries to throw up his digestive tract.

A man in his early thirties peeks around the corner of the kitchen and takes a step inside. “Hello?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

Mickey freezes. “Oh, shit.” He thought he was alone in this part of the house. Filling his palm with water, he washes it over his mouth and shuts the taps.

“Are you okay?” The man steps closer. “I heard something and I – ”

“No…yeah…I’m fine. I’m sorry. I just…” Mickey sighs and turns around to lay eyes on the homeowner who hired him. Fantastic. Probably just what everyone wants to see in life, their electrician bleeding and vomiting all over their sink.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the man says sincerely. He scans Mickey quickly, noticing the blood. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah…I…” Mickey can’t finish the statement. He feels too dizzy and braces himself on the counter.

“Woah, maybe you should sit down.” The man drags a step ladder towards Mickey and forces him to sit on it. “You need a hospital or something?”

“No…no…” Mickey holds up his finger. “This is nothing. I was just cleaning it out. Needs a bandage, that’s all. I got ‘em in my tool box.”

The man doesn’t look like he believes Mickey very much. “I thought I heard gagging.”

Mickey shrugs. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I cleaned it up.”

“Nah, man. I don’t care. Really.” He cocks his head and narrows his eyes at Mickey. “You sure you’re okay? Banged up fingers don’t usually lead to vomiting. So, if you’re sick, I’d much rather you call it a day. I just got over a nasty stomach bug myself. Not fun.”

“Not sick.” Mickey says while he stands up and walks a few steps towards his tool box. He fishes out a bandage and wraps his finger with practiced movements.

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m fucking sure,” Mickey snaps before he realizes the action was probably a mistake. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just…” He runs a hand over his face and lets everything tumble out of his mouth. “I’m not sick. I’m pregnant.” The revelation feels oddly cathartic and damning at the same time.

The other man clearly didn’t see that fact coming. His eyes widen and he pulls back. “Ooh, wow.” He pauses to gather his thoughts. When he does, he gives Mickey a grin. “Wow. That’s awesome.”

“Huh?” Mickey says dumbly.

“That’s awesome.” With Mickey still looking at him blankly, the man clarifies. “The fact that you’re pregnant. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, _awesome_ ,” Mickey mumbles sarcastically.

The homeowner doesn’t pick up on that. “My husband and I have been trying for a while now. No luck yet.” He smiles again and gives Mickey a soft look. “You want anything? Bottle of water or something? Help yourself. There are some in the fridge.”

Mickey feels like he’s gone mute. Being pregnant doesn’t feel awesome and it’s not something he’s in the mood to chat about with this guy – Derek he thinks – who he doesn’t know from a hole in the wall. He _really_ doesn’t know him because he had no idea there was a husband in the picture. Hell, he didn’t even know the guy is gay. It strikes him as sardonic that people like Derek try so hard for the thing he’s going to abort tomorrow. The thought has him feeling queasy again and he grimaces. A hand gets pushed to his abdomen on instinct alone and he snorts. “Yeah, water sounds good.”

Derek nods and goes to retrieve the bottle of water. He returns with a sympathetic smile as he holds the bottle of water in front of him. “Mickey, right?”

“Uhh, yeah.” Mickey takes a long drink and brushes the back of his hand over his mouth. He catches the other man watching his movements and looking at his knuckles. “Thanks, Derek?” he guesses.

“Yeah. And you’re welcome.” Derek crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the mostly complete bank of cabinets along the wall. “When are you due?”

“What?”

“The baby. When’s it due?”

Mickey avoids eye contact. “I, umm, don’t really know. It’s…” Mickey stops talking and focuses on drinking water. At least that’s something he can do without making a fool out of himself. “I’m 12 weeks,” he admits for some unbeknownst reason. Discomfort makes him shove his hands in his pockets and suck his teeth.

This time, Derek reads him correctly. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

Derek’s right. It isn’t any of his business. But it’s not like he dragged the admittance out of Mickey, that part tumbled out all on its own, like it needed to be put out there. Like it needs to be real. “It’s nothing,” Mickey says, shoving his hands deeper. “I’m sorry about the…you know,” he makes a head nod towards the sink in reference to his previous actions.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you would’ve rather avoided doing that if you could.” Derek voice is friendly as he shrugs. “You okay to keep working?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” Mickey says to reassure both of them.

This time, Derek doesn’t second guess him and nods. “Oh, good, because I would love to get finished with the behind the scenes stuff before the weekend. We have painters coming and I…well, now I’m rambling. Point is, I was hoping you could do something over here. Like, move this bank of outlets to the kitchen island and change this light switch into a double switch. One to control the recessed lighting and one for the light over the sink?” He points along with his words to make sure Mickey understands.

“Uhh, yeah. I could do that. The second part is easy, but I’m going to need a little more time to move the outlets. I should still be able to finish everything you want by tomorrow.” Mickey feels himself falling back down to comfort levels. Work is something that makes sense to him and he doesn’t mind talking about that but he’d rather be actually doing said work. He coughs once as a distraction to back out of the conversation. “So, I better get back to it then.”

“Great! Thanks so much!” Derek smiles wider. “And help yourself to anything in the refrigerator if you need. I don’t need you getting dehydrated on my conscience.”

Mickey’s not sure what to make of that last comment so he pushes it down and tramples over it, retreating back to the attic and finishing his work there. In the solitude, his brain keep reeling from the fact that Derek probably thinks he’s damaged in some way. Or maybe Derek just doesn’t understand him. Either way, their polar reactions to the pregnancy made it apparent that Derek was confused by the way Mickey was tiptoeing around the subject.

He tries to forget it for the remainder of his work day but lunch time comes and hits him like a freight truck. Hunger smacks into him so suddenly that he wonders where it had been hiding. Deciding he’s earned a break, he goes out to his SUV and slides into the driver’s seat. Normally he would drive a bit away from the work site but his stomach rumbles and he doesn’t want to waste the time.

Grabbing the brown paper bag containing last night’s leftovers, he pulls out a wrapped sandwich and sets it out on the console that divides to two front seats. It only takes a second for him to realize he had had the wrong sandwich and must have brought Ian’s leftovers to work instead because the sandwich that is staring at him definitely isn’t a chicken cutlet hero. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath. Now he’s stuck with eggplant covered in sauce and cheese, all neatly wrapped up in day old soggy bread. It should roll his stomach.

Only, it doesn’t.

Which is weird.

Mickey hates eggplant. He teases Ian every time the man eats it. It’s a vegetable that has no right being so purple and coming with so many sexual double entendres. Besides, Mickey hates the way it tastes.

That fact leaves Mickey confused over why his mouth is actually watering.

He’s not hungry enough to stoop to the level of eating eggplant.

But when he sneaks a peek at the sandwich again, his stomach flat out growls and he can’t deny that it’s looking pretty tasty at the moment. There are thick slices of eggplant poking out of the confines of the bread and normally this is the point where Mickey would be wrinkling his nose in disgust and moving onto something more meat based. He pokes at the sandwich and pulls a piece off between his thumb and forefinger. It tastes fucking good.

Which is fucking weird.

And then things click into place. He realizes why he’s been out of sorts for a while now and it’s a losing battle when it comes to hating eggplant. Food decisions have apparently been taken out of his control. A basic understanding of pregnancy helps Mickey figure that he’s craving things because of the baby; like this is the baby’s way of telling him it is there, that it is thriving. Of course Ian’s fucking baby wants goddamn eggplant. Of course it does. 

“Shit.” Mickey punches his hand into his palm. He’s set to end this whole thing tomorrow and here is his kid driving him crazy over eating eggplant, like there aren’t bigger problems in his world.

If only the fetus knew what was on the horizon for it, then maybe it wouldn’t bother with trivial things like making its father salivate over Ian’s day old eggplant or throw up a thousand times a day. The pit of Mickey’s stomach drops out when the he thinks that maybe the kid is doing all of this as a last ditch attempt to live out the rest of its very short ‘life’ to its fullest.

The thought of the baby knowing what Mickey has planned makes him nauseous. It’s like dead man walking and who is he to deny his child’s last wishes?  Without thinking further he takes the sandwich in both hands and tries desperately to think of nothing deeper than bite, chew, swallow, repeat.

He polishes off his lunch quickly and pushes it aside, letting his head fall into his hands. Eating the sandwich seems like it was the best idea he ever had and his body lets him know it appreciates it by thrumming with contentment. He braves ghosting a hand over his middle; it is a weird feeling to know that his stomach is swollen with more than lunch. When he closes his eyes, he sees the side profile of the baby that Dr. Fretto had pointed out to him and Ian. His fingers twitch at the memory of what they are hovering over and he shivers before pulling his palm away like he’s scorched himself.

He knows what was growing inside of him and he is going to rip it out just like all the other parts of his life that made him feel caged in. Only this removal is different. It’s part of Ian too.

Mickey’s eyes wander to a 4x6 picture of him and Ian. It’s taped to the dashboard and the corners are curling in on itself after being through a few summers trapped in the SUV. It’s a stupid picture. One they took when they were trying to figure out how to use the camera on a new cell phone. Neither of them are looking at the camera; Ian’s looking at something out of range and Mickey’s looking at Ian. They’re both laughing with open mouthed grins and Mickey loves that picture. He’s the one who put it there in the first place, though they’ve never actually spoken about that fact out loud. Ian’s smile is so big that Mickey swears he can hear laughter ringing in his ears. The shirt he’s wearing in the picture is green and even though it has faded, it makes everything about Ian pop, including the bruise Mickey left that had bloomed on Ian’s neck.

The picture makes love circle around in Mickey’s gut, reminding him that Ian’s got his hooks latched down deep inside of Mickey.

Hell, he’s got his kid latched deep down inside of Mickey.

The baby wasn’t supposed to be a person, it was supposed to be a medical decision. But suddenly it  _is_  a person, a tiny helpless person who likes eggplant and sucking up all of Mickey’s attention. Someone Mickey can’t stop thinking about. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It wasn’t supposed to be so much like Ian.

“Shit,” he mumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Cursing under his breath again, Mickey pulls his cell phone from his pocket and flips it over in his palm several. He swears he punched in Ian’s number but when he brings the phone to his ear, he realizes that he didn’t. He’s calling the clinic. Nervously drumming his fingers on the dashboard, he tries not to hang up before someone answers the call. His eyes are stuck in a loop of the telltale remains from his lunch and the faded photograph.

Mickey distracts himself so much that when the receptionist picks up his phone call, it catches him off guard and he jumps.  “Umm, hi, hello.”  He clears his throat. Someone must have taken over residence in his brain because he doesn’t know the person that starts talking. He doesn’t even know what that person is talking about. “My name’s Mickey Milkovich. I have an appointment tomorrow at eight. I’m going to have to cancel that.”  He swallows and presses the phone to his ear closer. “Reschedule?  Um no, I can’t really reschedule because I’m,” he looks at the photograph and gives in to all of it. Whatever it is, he’s going to spiral along with it. “I’m having a baby.”

***

Ian’s not sure what to do with himself. He’s pretty sure the answer shouldn’t have been taking an anxiety pill. The answer _definitely_ shouldn’t have been downing the pill with several hearty swigs of whiskey.

That’s not going to solve anything.

But Ian’s lost as to what’s to do.

He can’t seem to find a rhythm where he’s stable enough.

He went to work, that’s a plus. Even better, he did actual work while he was there. But now that his hands have nothing to do, he’s left with pacing the apartment and drinking more than he should.

It’s not going to solve anything but it feel pretty fucking good for the time being.

He’s not trying to forget anything, he’s just trying to figure out how he feels about it.

Every part of him meant what he said when he told Mickey that things were his decision. He’s on board with whatever his boyfriend wants. Truthfully, getting an abortion really does seem like the right thing for them at this stage in their lives. He honestly believes that.

He just doesn’t know why it feels so shitty.

His brain is stuck on that type of shit that media feeds you, that this is supposed to be the natural progression of things. He’s certain that Mickey is it for him. They both know that. But keeping things from getting too rocky is a balancing at that they’ve just figured out. He’s afraid a kid will mess them up in more ways than financial ones.

Ian doesn’t have a good track record with significant life changes.

He’s trying to work on all of that. It’s why he goes to his therapist even though he hates him because he opens up wounds and stitches him back together and he’s _so fucking right_ all the time. He’s been strong for a while now and he and Mickey have shifted the balance of their relationship towards a happy equal division of power. It ebbs and flows but it’s pretty damn stable.

But sometimes Ian’s mind runs away with him and he’s not confident enough to think that a straw isn’t going to fall and break everything into pieces that don’t fit together again. It’s his fault he almost lost Mickey to that and he’s glad they found a way to solder things back together; they’re solid but different. They won’t survive another fall like that.

Rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, Ian lets out a breath. He wishes he was able to function like Mickey, without the pills and the monitoring. But he can never maintain that for long and Mickey’s always quick to remind him that he doesn’t always function too well either. That’s why they work. They fill in gaps and carve out spaces shaped like each other.

Ian fucking loves Mickey. Loves all the good parts and the frustrating ones.

His heart is snagged on a dream of having this kid and loving that part of Mickey too. He wants it because it’s his but he wants it because it’s Mickey’s at the same time.

He feels stupid for even thinking that but he’s got an ultrasound printout burning a hole in his back pocket and he fucking wants it.

Returning to the open bottle of whiskey on the counter, he takes another mouthful and flops himself down on the bed, limbs spread out like a star. It’s probably the whiskey’s decision, but he’s dialing Lip’s number and tucking the cellphone between his ear and shoulder. With his hands free, he can fish the ultrasound scan out of his pocket. He’s not supposed to have it; Mickey probably doesn’t know that he swiped it from the appointment before they left the clinic. Running his thumb over the scan, he’s lost in thought by the time his brother picks up. His name has been called three times by the time he finds his voice. “Yeah, hi. Yeah, I’m here.” The words slur together just enough to hint that the whiskey’s got a hold on him.

 _“Are you okay? What’s going on?”_ Lip’s questions fill the speaker on Ian’s phone, heavy with concern.

“Yeah, no, I’m….” Ian responds, unhelpfully solving nothing. Maybe calling Lip wasn’t the best idea because there is no way he is going to get through this phone call without spilling his and Mickey’s private issues over the wireless connection.

_“What the fuck’s going on, Ian?”_

“I…” But he waits too long to finish the statement because Lip starts shoving more questions into his ear.

 _“Where are you? Where’s Mickey? Are you…”_ Lip pauses, the sound of him sucking at his teeth filling the silence before he starts again. _“You taking your meds?”_

That jolts Ian back to articulating his thoughts. Lip’s question exposes a nerve and he rolls his eyes. He knows Lip is worried about him and the questions are just his way of making Ian check himself. “Yes, I’m taking my meds. Shit, it’s not always about that. Do you realize that you always jump straight to that? Do you?” Ian’s words roll close together and he snorts into the receiver.

Lip doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he asks, _“You drunk?”_

“Halfway there,” Ian rolls his shoulders, arching his back enough to make it crack. “Shit, I shouldn’t even be drinking right now. I…fuck, Lip.”

_“How about we start with you telling me the reason why you’re drinking?”_

A quick, sharp laugh escapes from Ian’s throat followed by another.

 _“Seriously, Ian. You’re freaking me out over here,”_ Lip says, the strain to his words making it clear that he’s attempting to keep his pace calmer than he feels.

There is a moment of silence on the line before admittance drops out of Ian’s mouth. “Mickey’s pregnant.”

_“Shit.”_

“Yeah, shit.” Ian licks his lips and nods despite the fact that Lip can’t see the movement.

 _“What are you going to do about it_?”

“Umm, Mickey’s aborting it tomorrow.” Pressing a palm over his eyes, Ian tries to black out the image he’d been staring at on the print out.

 _“Shit.”_ Lip says for a second time.

“Yep.”

_“How is Mickey taking all of this?”_

Ian sighs. “Not great. He’s kind of messed up about it. But he’s doing what he – we – think is best. Yeah, he’s…he’s alright.”

Lip hums. _“And, how are you doing?”_

“Not so good,” Ian admits. He opens his eyes so he can hold the scan out in front of his face. “Not good. I don’t know what the right answer is here. I wish I did. But _this_ doesn’t feel like the right answer. It feels weird, like we’re killing pieces of us. And our whole life has been about family, right? Like, we’re supposed to take care of family. And this just feels wrong.” His breath shudders when he inhales. “And I feel like I can’t take care of Mickey.”

 _“I know you wanna take care of him but this is kinda a two for one situation. You can’t actually deal with it if you intend on dealing with it alone,”_ Lip states. _“Does he know you feel like this?”_

“No”

_“Why not?”_

“Because.” The word stands alone, filled with so much emotion that it echoes through the apartment. “Because I don’t want him to have to deal with me too. I…I told him it’s his choice. He’s the one who is actually pregnant. At this moment, things are impacting him far more than they're actually impacting me. It’s his choice. I don’t want to worry him by telling him any of this.”

 _“Yeah, because keeping it all inside is working out so well for you,”_ Lip scoffs.

Ian doesn’t know how to respond to that. He knows his brother is right. Instead of talking, he gets off the bed and saunters over towards the bottle of whiskey, taking a slow drag from the bottle and letting the heat slide down his throat.

 _“Stop fucking drinking_ ,” Lip scolds.

“We’re killing our kid. You of all people should know how shitty that feels.” Ian wipes his mouth with the heel of his palm and swallows thickly.  It seems like as good a reason to drink as any, maybe even better.

There is silence on the line again. Lip lets it go on for a while before breaking it with a question, _“Why’d you call me?”_

“Because you’re my brother. You’re my brother and I don’t know what to do and we’ve been through some pretty crazy things and I need you to tell me what to do.” The silence is back, making the hitching in Ian’s breathing apparent.

_“Talk to Mickey. Tell him what you told me. I can’t tell you what to do about the baby but I know you should talk to Mickey.”_

“It’s hard…you know…things.”

 _“When isn’t it?”_ Lip asks, matter-of-factly.

Ian understands that. Nothing has ever been easy, but the more he thinks about it, he realizes that a lot of things have been worth it.

 _“Ian,”_ Lip starts, drawing out the sentence like he’s not sure he should finish it. By the time he does, it’s almost whispered. _“You’d be a fucking good dad.”_

“You’d be a shitty uncle” The jab is quick on his tongue, a side effect of little brother syndrome.

_“Asshole, no I fucking would not.”_

Ian’s voice softens, “You’re right. You wouldn’t.” He means the words this time. Lip was – is – good to his siblings. He’s good to Liam, has been since the kid was in diapers. Ian images he’d be an awesome uncle when the kid goes back home to someone else at night. Unable to suppress the action, he smiles at the thought. The telltale sound of a key twisting in the door lock lets him know he’s about to have company. “Shit, I gotta go. Mick’s home.”

“ _Yeah, call me when you get a chance_.” After a beat, Lip adds, “ _good luck_.”

Ian disconnects the call and pockets his cellphone in one swift move. He shoves the scan back in along with it just in time to see Mickey trudge through the door. “Hey,” he says with a little too much nervous energy.

“Hey,” Mickey parrots back. He drops his bag on the counter, almost knocking the whiskey off in the process. Squinting probing eyes at Ian, he asks, “You drinking?”

“Yeah, I…” Ian licks his lips and tries to force down all the nervous emotions.

Mickey says nothing, choosing instead to massage the tension at the back of his neck with one hand as he avoids eye contact. He looks worn out and angry, fidgeting enough that doesn’t seem to spend more than a second or two in one spot. “Ian, we gotta talk.”

“Yeah…I know. I…” Ian starts slow but once he gets started it’s like a dam broke inside him and the words freefall. “I don’t want you to have an abortion. I…I just want to talk about it. Think about it more. You getting rid of it tomorrow seems so _final_ and I don’t know if I’m on board with that. It’s just that...it’s part of you and me and…We said we’d take care of each other. Killing our kid doesn’t seem like were doing a good job of taking care of each other. I…I…” Ian licks his lips and feels wetness welling in his eyes. It’s there and he has to choke it back before the tears choke the words from his mouth. “I don’t know if we’re strong enough to do this together but I at least wanna try to figure that out.” He stops, blinking up at Mickey. He’s startled when he sees Mickey staring at him, a confusing look on his face.

Mickey’s quiet as eh absorbs Ian’s admittance. The words hit him and a disbelieving laugh floats between them. Shaking his head, he reaches for the bottle of whiskey and takes a drink. The way he swallows reminds Ian of someone savoring something in an act of goodbye. When he’s done, Mickey turns to face Ian head on. “I canceled the appointment tomorrow.” He rubs a hand over his lips and shakes his head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do…if we’re going to raise it or not…but I can’t…” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t. I was at work _all day_ and all _your_ fucking kid wanted was your damn eggplant sandwich. You expect me to kill it after that? I can’t. It’s part of you. So…I can’t. Okay?” Mickey lets his shoulders drop as he looks up at the ceiling in a type of surrender.

Every bone in Ian’s body doesn’t want to become a cliché right now but his joints don’t agree. He falls to his knees partially because emotional exhaustion takes its toll by mostly because he needs to grab Mickey and hug his face to the pregnant man’s middle. Holding on tightly, he nuzzles him, drying the wetness dotting his eyes on Mickey’s shirt. “Mick,” he mumbles. He feels like he’s shivering but the moment Mickey threads his fingers through Ian’s hair, it grounds him. Mickey’s fingers are gentle and exude the feeling of love, allowing Ian to sigh into Mickey’s stomach. Ian wants to kiss him, _needs to_ , but they’ll get to that later. Right now, this connection is everything. “It’s okay Mick. We’ll figure it out.”

Mickey’s words are strong when he presses Ian’s head firmly against him and replies, “I know we will. You and me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate it. Like I said before, I was nervous about posting this and I appreciate any feedback that people give me. Also - this story started to take on a life of it's own. I had a plan for it but they keep changing in good ways. Like I said, the story was supposed to be 9K total but it's blowing that word count away.
> 
> Any situations you would like to see?  
> Also - boy or girl baby? I have it in my head what it is but I was wondering what people were thinking.


	6. Roads to Tavel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Medical jargon and medical exams. Hey, Mickey's pregnant. That's got to happen.
> 
> The end of the chapter has some smut.

Mickey towel dries his hair with rushed movements and throws the damp towel on the floor beside the sink. Their apartment is a bit of a mess at the moment, not cluttered, just unkempt. They’ve been spending time dealing with less tangible things than picking up after themselves.

Ian will probably clean it up later, he’s kind of notorious for that. Right now, Mickey lets things lay as they are. He gets dressed with thoughts of Ian at the forefront of his mind, pulling a henley over his head with practiced movements and tugging on jeans. He goes to button them and they’re tight. It’s not a sudden realization, they’ve felt snug for a few days now, but he figured it was due to hem being freshly washed and dried or that they were the one odd pair he had that never fit properly to begin with. But, no. These jeans are tight when they have no right to be. He’s worn them for two days, they should be comfortably worn in. He can button them and smooth down his shirt enough to pretend that everything is as it always is, but his belly’s swollen.

That’s something he has a hard time wrapping his brain around and it sure as hell is going to be impossible to get used to.

Mickey lets his thumb draw a line down the middle of his stomach, pausing so it can rest directly under his belly button. While doing so, he stares at himself in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Before his thoughts take a hold of him, he shakes his head and clears his brain. Pulling open the cabinet door, he pops open the bottle of Advil, taps two into his palm. Then he pulls out Ian’s meds. He’s got Ian’s morning medication regiment memorized and knows exactly which ones and how many to add to his palm full of Advil.

Running his free hand though his hair, he messes with it so that it looks presentable enough to go to work. It’s cold out anyway; he’ll probably pull a hat on at some point.

Exiting the bathroom, he stops to fill a glass with water in the kitchen and he puts both the glass and the pills on the night table beside his and Ian’s bed. Ian’s still passed out, head buried in the pillow and arms tucked under it. Mickey’s sure he’s going to be a nasty bitch when he wakes up, whiskey doing too much damage because he drank too much of it. Leaning down, he ruffles Ian’s hair and presses a lingering kiss to the messy tresses. He hovers there long enough to breathe Ian in; the fussing wakes Ian enough so that he groans, scrunches his face and tries to burrow into the mattress like it can swallow him up. “Ian,” Mickey’s voice is firm and soft at the same time.

“Mnngh,” Ian mumbles.

“Ian,” Mickey tries again. “Your head’s going to be pounding when you actually get your ass out of bed.” He shakes the other man. “Come on. Wake up enough. Take some Advil. Take your pills.”

Ian listens, movements languid and his eyes are practically closed the whole time. He mumbles something that sounds like a “thank you", downs the entire glass of water and flops back into bed with the covers pulled over his head.

For a moment, Mickey feels frozen. Words and thoughts rolls around in his head until he’s in the now and he can process why he’s scared to leave. “Hey, no bed all day.” Mickey’s met with silence, causing his voice to pick up when he says, “Ian. I mean it. No bed.”

There’s a ruffling of blankets and Ian’s sitting up, staring at Mickey like he’s ten times more awake than he was seconds ago. Licking his lips, he reaches out and closes his fingers around Mickey’s wrist, tugging until Mickey practically collides with him. “I’m not going to stay in bed all day.” He pulls Mickey so that their foreheads are touching. “Hey,” he says more forcefully to get Mickey’s attention. “I’m not.” He brushes their lips together.

“You better fucking not,” Mickey snorts. He lets himself kiss Ian back for several moments before pulling back. “I got work. You?”

“Yeah, I’ve got stuff I need to do.” Ian falls back and resumes smothering himself in blankets.

Mickey breathes a sigh. It’s one of relief because he believes Ian; the other man is just tired. _Things_ have Mickey out of sorts, making things that normally don’t leave him on edge get the best of him. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

“Mmmhmm,” is the only reply Mickey gets before he heads out the door.

It’s just another day and they’re caught up in it.

***

The warehouse Ian’s been renting out as a workspace isn’t glamorous or special in any way.

It’s in a shitty location and the insulation pretty much sucks, but it’s cheap and spacious.

Sometimes it’s far enough away from the noise of the world that Ian can get lost with the muse of his work.

Sometimes he laughs because what he’s doing now isn’t even in the same realm of what he thought he’d be doing at this age. He never wanted to build furniture. He never even gave a shit about furniture. In the end, deciding to do what he’s doing now isn’t about the final product, it’s about the process. He discovered in drips and drabs that letting his brain exhaust itself on consecutive designs and plans actually worked for him. It settled him. Once he experimented with that fact, he found that he had a knack for working with wood and tools. He thinks better when he’s wielding something he can lop a limb off with. Maybe he and Mickey are similar like that. They’re both addicted to holding something dangerous in their hands.

Ian knows that statement doesn’t just apply to power tools and electricity.

He doesn’t let himself think about that too much because he’d much rather not fuck up mitering a 45 degree angle when he’s got a limited supply of food to work with. His mind wanders instead, leaving him to focus on other things. On Mickey. On this morning. On the look his boyfriend wore. On not fucking this relationship up. On not slipping.

On last night.

On the fact that Mickey’s having the baby.

He doesn’t even know the first thing about that. Obviously, he knows the basics. He knows how people get into this situation and understands the birds and the bees. He knows what you do with a baby; he’s done that to his siblings since he was too young to be doing it. What he doesn’t know is the behind the scenes details on how you get from point A to B. What happens between getting pregnant and having a baby?

He knows there are things he and Mickey should be doing but he can’t figure out where to start.

Sighing, he powers down the saw and brushes a bead of sweat off his forehead with his arm. Turning, he almost drops the piece of wood he’s been working on when he stumbles backwards and locks eyes with familiar blue ones. “Jesus Christ, Mickey!” Regaining his composure he realizes Mickey is comfortably leaning against the doorway, an amused smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. “How long have you been standing there?”

“A little while now. Came in when you were using the saw.” Mickey shrugs and scratches at the back of his neck.

“You just going to stand there and stare at me like a creeper?” Ian bends down to gently deposit the wood on the ground.

“I dunno. Maybe.” Mickey licks his lips before slowly brushing his thumb across the lower portion. “I like looking at you. Like watching you work.” He pauses and narrows his eyes pensively. “You usually look calm…but you’re tense.” He leaves the accusation there to judge Ian’s reaction.

“Yeah…I was thinking.” Ian brushes his sawdust covered hands off on his jeans. Seeing Mickey in his workspace isn’t an odd occurrence, not even in the middle of the day. They always find ways to flit in and out of each other’s worlds, even the work ones. This time, it feels stiff. Lessening the gap between them, he realizes Mickey looks tense too. “What are you doing here? You done with work?”

“Nah, man. I just had some time between jobs. I figured I would stop by and check in on you.” He smiles weakly. “I’ve been thinking too.” Mickey doesn’t wait for questions, he delves right into things. “I figured, if we’re going to go through with this then I should probably get checked out. You know? Like, actually checked out more than just confirming that I’m pregnant. So,” Mickey pauses to shove his hands in his jacket pockets. “I wanted to see if you and I could come up with a time to visit the clinic again.” He laughs uncomfortably. “Dude, one of my clients asked me when I was due and I had to take a second to realize what he was talking about. I should probably know that, right?”

“Yeah, I should too.” Ian knocks his shoulder into Mickey, the movement familiar and grounding all at once. “We can go to the clinic. Whenever you want. I can shift almost everything that I have planned for the next few weeks. I’ve got a big job but not a pressing end day.” He realizes what he’s doing. He’s treading so lightly that he’s barely leaving tracks. He does that sometimes, when he’s worried that Mickey is skittish and anything he does will close up now that he’s being open. It’s an old _terrible_ habit that he’s been breaking away at bit by bit. “I _want_ to go with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ian says with certainty. “We’ll go whenever you want.”

“Umm, so I’ll call…” The words drop off as Mickey bites his bottom lip and rolls his eyes to look at Ian. He straightens out, shakes off the discomfort and takes quick steps towards the other man, pressing his body against his. It’s fluid and easy when their lips connect and he reaches up to slide his hand over the back of Ian’s neck and tug him closer.

Mickey doesn’t have to do much tugging; Ian is all too willing to make the connection. He hums into his boyfriend’s mouth and smiles through the kiss, letting his tongue slide alongside the shorter man’s. Sparks sizzle between their touches, waking up parts of them that were too tentative to make their selves known in the prior uncertainty of the moment. It’s always like that, how they come together slowly and all at once, bonded so solidly that Ian needs to breathe Mickey in to remember that they’re two distinct people. It doesn’t feel like that now. He slides his arms up Mickey’s back so that his hands are palm down and keeping Mickey held tightly. “Mick,” he mumbles, sucking in a quick breath and diving in for another kiss.

“I just need this,” Mickey admits even though Ian wasn’t asking. “Okay?”

“Me too,” Ian nips at Mickey’s lip with a playfulness they both need as well.

They kiss, nothing more than that. It’s intense and tender enough that is doesn’t need to be anything more. Mickey smells like dry electricity and Ian smells like scorched wood. He wonders if they’ll combust if they keep rutting like they are, go up in flames and burn out till there is nothing left.

It’s Mickey who pulls away. The retreat is slow and gentle, and he needs to curl his arms around each of Ian’s biceps so that he has the strength to back off. “I feel like I’m crazy,” he says with a laugh. “I feel like there is a way I’m supposed to act right now but I have no idea what it is.” He shakes his head. “You make me fucking crazy, you fucker.”

“Ay, fuck you!” Ian narrows and eye at Mickey. He pretends to give a shut about the insult thrown at him but it doesn’t last long. “I’m actually crazy…you know, sometimes….and I have no idea either. But this,” he makes a quick gesture with his pointer finger between the two of them, “makes sense. Me and you being like this. And if _this_ makes sense, then I think it’s good that you stopped by so we can do it.” He gives a ridiculously suggestive eyebrow waggle.

“Fuck off,” Mickey laughs as he shoves Ian playfully. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“Yeah, sure, just be a tease like that.” Ian reaches for him but Mickey shakes his head.

“Nah, I gotta go. I’m probably already going to be a little bit late.”

“Be late,” Ian suggests, partially seriously and partially teasing.

“Nah. We _need_ money, Ian.” But this time, he doesn’t avoid Ian’s reach and let’s himself be drawn back in for another kiss. This time, he’s strong enough to keep it short. “I’ll see you at home?”

Mickey’s right about the money part, so Ian let’s go. “Yeah, I’ll be a few more hours here. You gonna call?”

“Yeah, I’ll call.”

Ian catches a waver in the other man’s voice. “ _Really_?”

“Fuck off, _I’ll call._  I’ll text you the time if I make an appointment.” He’s walking away by the time he’s done speaking. “Don’t chop a hand or anything important off.” He gives a type of salute in farewell but the smile he ducks out with is _everything_. It causes Ian’s heart to skip a beat.

Then he’s gone and the workspace is dimmer. Ian stares at the space Mickey once occupied. He thinks maybe they just started with a plan of attack but now his brain is thumbing through other plans. _What are they going to do with a baby_? They’re doing _this_. They’re having the kid. But then what?

Ian thinks he knows what he wants but he’s not certain. And he sure as hell doesn’t know what Mickey wants.

Shaking his head, he returns to the piece of wood he was working on when Mickey arrives and does his best not to chop “anything important off.”

***

Mickey’s back in the clinic, back to thumping his foot against the carpet and wearing away the fibers. He’s jittery all over, which he wishes wasn’t the case because it’s making him nauseous as hell. He scowls because everything sucks: the situation, the way he’s feeling, the knot in his middle, the fact that the waistband of his jeans are cutting into him.

The only thing good is that Ian’s purposefully grounding him by ways of seemingly innocent touches, like the way their outer thighs and shoulders are pressed together as they sit beside each other in the waiting room. They’re not talking but they don’t have anything that needs to be said at the moment. The silence is a comfort amidst the sea of uneasiness.

“Mr. Milkovich?” A voice calls out, stuttering over the last name as she does.

Mickey’s head whips to the left and he locks eye with the woman, a different one from the last time he was here. He stands in tandem with Ian and leads their way to the door leading to the exam rooms. He hitches a thumb back at Ian and mumbles, “partner,” as they shuffle through the door.

“Okay,” the nurse says, the word sounding more like a question than understanding. “Follow me.” She escorts them towards an empty exam room, as sterile and impersonal as the last time they were here. “Take a seat.” She flips through the file in her hand and shrugs. “You weren’t here all that long ago so I’m assuming we don’t need to update any of your information. Just quick temperature and blood pressure check and we’re good.”

Mickey lets the nurse go about her business in a manner much like the last time. He feels numb it, like he’s just a spectator in his own life. His vision darkens around the edges and when he feels the nurse tightening the blood pressure cuff around his arm, his heart catapults. It’s not a full blown panic attack but it seems pretty close to one. Without warning the nurse, he yanks out of her hold and holds onto the edge of the sink at the other side of the room. He’s gulping down air one minute and then losing control over the situation and vomiting into the metal basin. Wishing he could blink out of existence, Mickey groans and succumbs to another wave of retching.

Ian’s next to him instantly, palm placed over the space between Mickey’s shoulder blades and concerned utterances leaving his mouth.

“Fucking kill me,” Mickey gags out before running the taps and splashing water over his mouth. “Seriously. Just do it.”

Shaking his head, Ian’s palm starts up with a comforting stroking motion. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get right on that.”

The nurse blinks at them at a loss of what to do. “Are you ill, Mr. Milkovich?” she says dumbly, like her profession hasn’t allotted her with similar situations.

Mickey turns and glares at her. “I’m not fucking sick. I’m fucking pregnant and this,” with both hands, he makes the vaguest gesture towards the room, “is fucking….fuck!” There are no words really, because Mickey can only think that “fuck” sums everything up nicely.

“He’s fine.” Ian translates. “Just uncomfortable.” He adds, “me too,” before Mickey turns his glare on him. Touching Mickey’s elbow, he ushers him over towards the exam table again. “Hey, you okay? ‘Cause _it’s_ okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking fine,” Mickey grumbles under his breath. He holds the arm still wearing the blood pressure cuff towards the nurse and closes his eyes. He tries to think of anything other than being stuck in the room. For the most part he fails but before any harm is done, the sound of Velcro peeling away is heard.

“Okay, all done. The doctor will be in with you shortly. Undress all the way and change into this.” She hands him a paper gown before leaving with a grateful smile and closes the exam room door behind her as she goes.

The silence between him and Ian feels weird now that they’re alone and Mickey can see a thousand questions in Ian’s eyes. Rubbing at the arm that the blood pressure cuff was wrapped around a minute ago, Mickey fills the silence. “I hate that fucking thing.”

“The blood pressure cuff?” Ian asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. I just hate it.” Considering Mickey’s dealt with worse than having his blood pressure taken, he can see why this fact amuses Ian. He starts shucking off his clothing piece by piece. “I don’t like being constricted like that. I makes my skin crawl.” That part makes more sense to Mickey. He skirts away from being restrained in any way. Ian can get away with it, but that took years. The medical device that was restricting his blood flow isn’t Ian and as irrational as it sounds, Mickey hates the thought of it squeezing him. He’s glad he’s free of the thing, although, right now he’s feeling almost too free, too exposed standing in nothing but a paper gown and socks.

“Hmmn,” Ian says in consideration. He’s stopped from saying anything more when his eyes are drawn to the exam door opening.

A petite brunette woman they are both vaguely familiar with from their last visit enters the room. She grabs the waste bin by the door and brings it with her as she approaches. “Oh, It’s you again,” she says with genuine interest. Pausing to take in men’s confused expressions, she reintroduces herself. “Dr. Fretto. Katie. Remember? You’re Ian, right?” She sticks a hand towards Ian and gave a quick handshake. “And Mickey,” she smiles at the man, “I’ve been told you might need this.”  She drops the waste bin on his lap before offering him a hand.

Mickey blinks several times at the small pail on his lap and feelings of wanting to blink out of existence return. He tentatively takes her hand and shakes it even though what he really feels like doing is bashing her over the head with the garbage pail. But she’s not being judgmental, she’s just being matter-of-fact. Mickey can’t deny that he’s building a track record here. “I guess I have a fucking reputation.”

“Yeah, I guess you _fucking_ do.” She mimics him and cocks her head, straight to the point and no beating around the bush. “I’ve been warned about the throwing up thing. You kinda don’t handle this pregnancy thing really well.” She pauses with raised eyebrows. “Want to give it a practice run?” Putting a hand on her hip, she doesn’t give Mickey a chance to respond. “You’re pregnant.” She waits a minute and when Mickey didn’t react, she repeats herself. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah. I’m fucking pregnant.” Mickey licks his lips and tries to see the point in all this.

“Hey! Look, no throw up. That’s progress!” Dr. Fretto smiles and took the waste bin back into her hands.  “So, you think we are okay without this?”

“Yeah, I….yeah.” Mickey shifts, embarrassment rising in him that he’s succumb to being unable to control his bodily functions. It makes him feel weak, which in turn stirs up feelings of self-hatred.

“Good.” She puts the pail on the floor and flips open the medical files. “So, the blood work we did last time you were here came back. You’re definitely pregnant, which is kind of redundant at this point. But everything else looks great. There isn’t anything I’m worried about. She hums to herself as she runs a fingertip across things in Mickey’s chart, then she rolls her eyes up at Mickey and studies him a moment. “I’ve got a feeling those aren’t the parts you’ve been freaking out about.”

That jolts Mickey out of his stupor. Every wall is up in place but this woman who he barely knows barreled through all of them. “I’m not  _freaking out_.  I’m just…” Mickey doesn’t know how to continue.

Katie holds up a palm. “Hey, it’s okay to freak out. You have another person living inside of you. Trust me, it is like biology’s weird way of reenacting  _Alien_. It’s worthy of freaking out about, at least a little. You got yourself pregnant. No big deal. I mean…it’s a _big_ deal but it’s not an ‘end of the world’ type of big deal. You’re an adult. You can handle it. You’re still you, you just have an added passenger. Okay?” She waits for some type of answer. Getting none, her eyes soften. “This is how things are going to work: It's your job to tell me what you’re comfortable with. What you want. It's my job to make sure you know how to do that and to help you do it safely. It’s a partnership. So, if you don’t throw up on me, I think we’ll be fine.” She smiles in an attempt to keep the mood light. “Trust me, nausea and panic attacks have never lost me a patient. I’m going to have to talk about and put you through some things that will probably make you feel uncomfortable, but you look like you can handle it. It’s not going to be pretty, and not all of it is going to be fun, but we’ll make sure you get whatever outcome you want.” She pauses for some type of answer to that unspoken question. “Whatever it is you want…a baby or no baby…or…”

“We’re having the baby,” Ian quickly supplies.

“Okay, so we’ll do that. We’ll make sure that’s what happens, okay?” Katie smiles again.

Mickey doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know when all this “we” business started and he’s not sure how he feels about it because he’s pretty sure there isn’t a lot of “we” going on. It’s mostly him and his bloated belly and his fondness for vomiting. But Dr. Fretto spoke like nothing was a big deal, like him being pregnant is totally normal. She doesn’t sugar coat and she doesn’t use all that flowery language about pregnancy that Mickey hates. She didn’t bull shit. She got right to Mickey’s core and he has no idea why this woman can ever do that or why she gives a shit. But she does, apparently and Mickey can respect that. Finding his voice, he says, “Yeah, okay,” like the admittance is no big deal.

“Good!” Dr. Fretto clapped Mickey on the shoulder. “So, let’s get started with the really uncomfortable part.” She put Mickey’s file down and pretended to be introducing herself to Mickey for the first time. “Hi, I’m Dr. Fretto. I’ve just met you and I know this is a little forward of me but now I need to get acquainted with what is going on between your legs.  So, can you swing around towards the stirrups?” When Mickey stays frozen in place, she laughs and shakes her head. “They won’t bite.  I promise.  And I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

“This is bullshit,” Mickey mumbles. Never in his life had he been exposed like this to anyone other than someone he intended on having sex with and even this, this is still a deeper level of exposure. Ian can get all up in him but he’s the only one. The thought of Katie seeing those parts makes his body clench up.

Ian floats in front of his face. “Hey, Mick, if I could, I would do this part. Trust me. I’d rather not have anyone else’s hands on my goods. But she’s the one with the medical degree so, I’m going to have to let her do her job. You are too. That’s why we’re here, right?”

Mickey knows why they are here, he just doesn’t like it. It’s easy for Ian to be calmer about this; he’s not the one who is going to be spread eagle in really intimidating looking stirrups. Rolling his eyes, he nods, shifting so that he can scoot down to the end of the examination table where Dr. Fretto intends to do business. He lets her lift his legs into the stirrups even though he thought he was perfectly capable of doing that part on his own; only, his legs seem static and he is freezing. Exposed like that, Mickey has to fight the urge to cement his knees together so that he can allow his legs fall open. Groaning and covering both eyes with his palms, the FUCK U-UP on his knuckles face the ceiling and he has never felt more fucked up. Ian runs a hand though his hair, prompting Mickey to turn towards the motion, whispering under his breath.  “This is embarrassing…”

If Dr. Fretto heard him, she didn’t acknowledge it. She runs down everything she is going to do and why in layman’s terms. Her voice is still calm and so straightforward that Mickey starts to feel like maybe he’s been blowing things out of proportion. But then her fingers are inside him, and she tells him she is checking the size of his uterus and pelvis and he wants to kick her in the face. She pushes down on his middle with her free hand, gently enough that it doesn’t hurt but firmly enough that it sends the wind out of him. She’s inside of him for what feels to be too long, searching and making little “hmm” noises in thought. Parts of Mickey’s brain swear that Ian has never been that thorough; fingers that aren’t Ian’s are way too far up inside him and he tenses involuntarily. Even though he’s trying to remain calm enough to get through this part, he hears her repeatedly telling him to relax his muscles. Ian’s still stroking his hair, a gesture that would have usually been instantly calming, it’s like Ian’s secret weapon for turning Mickey into a boneless heap, but the doctor pushes down again and he can’t stop the gasp from coming out of his mouth. He’s absolutely positive that the doctor can draw an accurate road map to his insides by the time she finally pulls out her gloved fingers.

He doesn’t have time to be glad it is over because she’s back inside him again with something more mechanical. She’s still talking about what she is doing but Ian seemed to be the only one listening. Mickey’s far away, picturing the minute where he can have the safety of clothing to shield him. Ian’s talking to her, asking questions, questions Mickey should probably care about, but he trusts Ian enough to deal with the parts of this exam that required brain power.

Dr. Fretto takes a culture of his insides just to make sure everything is normal. It’s quick enough and when she pulls out the speculum, she looks relieved that Mickey hasn’t lost his shit yet.

“Looks good. Great, even. There is just one more thing…” She reached for Mickey’s file and thumbed through it. “You were here over a week ago and I guessed you were around 12 weeks. I wanna be sure so we can nail down a due date. We’re just going to do another ultrasound and then you’re done.”

“Okay.” Mickey looks up at the doctor with an awkward reach of his neck. It’s difficult to see her clearly over the paper drawn across his spread legs.

“You can put your legs down. We’re done with that glamourous part.” She pats his thigh and pulls off her gloves. While Mickey resituates himself, she flicks a switch on the ultrasound cart. “You know the drill from last time, right?”

“Yeah, cold shit and you get to look at my insides.” Mickey rolls head to the left so he doesn’t have a view of the ultrasound machine. Ian’s still running fingers through his hair, almost petting him, and he appreciates that. That feels pretty normal when everything else is so foreign.

“Yeah, well, the _cold shit_ isn’t _that_ cold,” Katie states as she pulls open the gown to expose Mickey’s stomach and squirts a dollop of gel on him. You guys happen to be sure of a date when conception could have happened?”

Both men answer in sync. “No.” It’d be impossible to guess; there are too many dates to choose from.

“Doesn’t matter. I should be able to figure something out.” She holds up the transducer “I just want to get a look at the fetus’ development. It should look a little more like a baby than last time.” Stopping to study Mickey, she put the transducer down on the sterile tool tray. “Do we need this again?” In a quick motion, she bends at the waist and holds the garbage pail up towards Mickey.

Mickey isn’t sure what to answer. He probably looks pale and if he thinks about it too hard, he most likely will throw up. He’s come to terms with the fact that the baby is a _baby_. It looked human enough last time and he freaks out. On the underbelly of his discomfort is a fear that something is looming over him, like this kid is already fucked up. What if all of his and Ian’s pieces don’t work together to make a functioning human being. He hates himself for letting old fears to the surface when he thinks about what his father would do to him if he ever got desperate enough to track him down. He’s successfully gone and done everything his father tried to brainwash him into thinking was wrong by getting pregnant. Closing his eyes, he shakes his head from side to side so those thoughts can’t touch him. “No. I’m okay. Let’s just…do it.”

“Ok.” She looks like she’s trying to figure out what the wheels in Mickey’s head were just doing but her smile is back in place and she nods before turning to Ian. “Maybe you should hang onto this…just in case.”

“Yeah, sure. Good idea.” Ian tries to laugh it off as a joke but the suggestion isn’t too farfetched. He steps away from Mickey to take the pail in one hand. When Mickey reaches out and squeezes down on his forearm. He looks just as surprised by Mickey’s search for support as Mickey does, and he moves to intertwine his fingers with Mickey’s as Dr. Fretto gets the transducer into position.

There is what feels like an hour of complete silence before Katie “hmm’s” and locates her target.  “There.”  She uses her free hand to point to something on the screen which she had positioned so that all three of them could see it.

Mickey can’t stop himself from looking. It’s pretty much just as he remembers seeing the baby the last time he was here, only this time it seems wigglier, likes it’s feeling just as anxious as Mickey. Ian’s hand clenches around his tighter and he can feel the air go out of the room. He’s afraid to keep looking at the screen but he’s afraid to stop. He tries to figure out if the baby is human because it looks humanoid but a little weird and he hopes that’s normal.

“It still looks good.” She clicks around on the screen. In a change from how much talking she’s done this far, she’s almost silent.

The quiet is what gives Mickey the push to talk. “What are you doing?”

“Just measuring the organs and taking a note of it this time. You didn’t give me much of a chance last time you were here. And, checking that part,” she points to the screen, tracing the area under the baby’s skull. “Nuchal scan. Checking for Down’s Syndrome.”

When she doesn’t elaborate, Ian leans closer and asks, “and?”

“And everything looks good. Baby’s strong.” She moves the transducer over Mickey’s belly presses down enough to manipulate the image she wants to see. “The placenta is in a good place, right over here. Not obstructing the cervix so I don’t think you’ll encounter many problems with the birth.” Katie makes a satisfied nod of her head.

 “That…has to come out of me?” Mickey says dumbly. He looks at the screen and swallows thickly.

Dr. Fretto laughs before recognizing the conflicting emotions washing over Mickey’s face. Her demeanor changes like she’s going in to damage control mode. “Yeah. But it’s doing just fine inside of you right now. Let’s not worry about the getting out part right now. Okay?”

Mickey turns towards Ian. “That’s inside of me.”

“Yeah, Mick. It is.” Ian winces when Mickey’s hand squeezes more tightly around his own.

Heart rate spiking, Mickey pushes into an awkward sitting position the moment the doctor removes the transducer. “And it has to come out. And then what? Then what do we do with it? Huh?” He turns to Ian, chewing on the bottom of his lip. There was a human being inside of him and he wasn’t supposed to worry? Did the doctor understand how crazy that thought sounded? There was a thing that didn’t look like much of a thing inside him and it was “great”. And it was there. And it was real. And now he had to turn his world upside down to give it a chance of having a life. A life outside, where he doesn’t know what to do with it. Where he doesn’t know if it will be safe. “We have to…have to…” There are words that he wants to get out but they get jumbled up in a frustrated growl.

Ian places a hand in the middle of Mickey’s chest. “We’ll figure it out. Right?”

Mickey nods but his chest gives him away by rising and falling too rapidly. It’s a bigger panic attack than the one he had earlier and he feels like he can’t breathe. He needs to get out. Pushing off the table, he mumbles something about using the bathroom as he gathers his clothing into his arms and dashes out of the room.

Eyes wide, Dr. Fretto comes to stand beside Ian. “This isn’t usually the reaction I get when I tell people everything is great.”

“Yeah…well…You haven’t really met Mickey yet.”  Ian sighs and pushes his hair back.

 “I have a feeling you two aren’t don’t fill a lot of the norms.” 

“You’d be right.”  Ian shook at the doctor being able to hit the nail on the head.

“Guess it’s a good thing I like a challenge. And I don’t usually follow the norms myself.” Gesturing to the door with a jut of her chin, she adds, “he’s going to be fine, by the way.”

“I know…I mean, I think I know.” Ian gives a nervous glance at the door before giving a pleading look to Katie. “I need him to know that too.”

“He will. Give him time.” Katie shrugs, “At least he made it through most of the appointment  _and_  he didn’t throw up on either of us.”

“That’s probably more of an accomplishment than you realize. You didn’t see him earlier.”

“News travels fast here. I realize how much of an accomplishment that is.” She opens the door searching for Mickey. With no luck, she figures he’s still lost in his own panic attack. “He might need a minute. You wanna go over some of the diet and activity restrictions?  I prefer to tell both parents but I don’t know if he can handle much more right now.”

“Yeah, okay…I mean…yeah. Umm, and maybe some other information. Like…adoption or something?”

“You thinking about that?” Katie says without judgement.

“Maybe. I don’t know. We’re thinking about everything. I…we…just want to know all of our options.” Ian shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

Katie nods. “Sure, we can do that. I’ve got some literature you can have to read up on everything.” She jots a note in Mickey’s file and looks up at the ceiling in calculation. “For your information, it looks like the baby is due on June 2nd."

The news of a pinpointed due date leaves Ian speechless.

With lack of response from Ian, Katie continues, "So, food restrictions,” Katie says in an attempt to change the subject to something less daunting. “Cold cuts are what most people complain about giving up. Does Mickey eat a lot of them?”

“You could say that.”

“Oh, I  _do not_  envy you right now.”

Ian can only respond with an earnest smile, a thought in his eyes. “You should, because he’s amazing, ridiculous penchant for vomiting and all.”

***

Mickey can’t sleep.

He’s saddled up beside Ian, the bed warm and comfortable. The safety of the sheets and physical contact helped him shake off the anxiety of the day. He’s going to let himself forget the fact that he had a freak out in the doctor’s office. It happened, it was embarrassing but he’s pushing it away.

Now he’s dealing with the fact that he’s got a date in his head. June 2nd circles his brain. It’s months away but feels infinitely closer.

The room is dim and Ian’s breathing is rhythmic beside him. He finds his fingers trailing down to his stomach and tiptoeing over it. His eyes catch on the things Ian dropped on their night table when they arrived home. He reaches out to pull it all onto his lap, staring at the ultrasound printout on the top of it all. Picking it up, the image doesn’t seem so scary when it’s contained on a flimsy piece of paper. In the walls of his apartment, he lets himself look at it. He’d be lying if he said that the realization that he’s looking at his and Ian’s kid didn’t amp up his heart rate. It does, but not in a panic attack kind of way. It’s more like a warmth spreading through him and with Ian sleepily nestling closer to him, he lets his mind wander to a world where he can be excited about the baby.

He thinks about being a family, the type that doesn’t come up as a blip on CPS’ radar. Looking at the scan, it’s easy to locate the legs and arms and a skull that curves in ways to indicate eyes and a nose. The doctor had told Ian how big the baby is but the scan makes it seem so much larger. How can something so tiny be so huge? There is no way to figure out what the side profile of that 13 week old nose will look like but Mickey allows himself to believe that it’ll curve like Ian’s. The thought is silly and makes him shake his head.

Putting the ultrasound to the side, he thumbs through the packets about different adoption options. It’s something that had been banging out in his head. Pop out a kid, give it to someone who will love it, and go back to normal life. It seems cold but with the way Mickey’s been feeling about himself, he thinks it’s more selfless than anything. He and Ian would be giving the baby a shot at a home with people who went out of their way to make a home where their child is wanted. Where the baby is planned and incapable of being an accident.

Placing everything back on the table, Mickey makes the decision to talk about it with Ian tomorrow. Tonight, he needs to feel like himself and forget that Dr. Fretto, a practical stranger, had touched parts of him that he’d reserved for Ian alone.

Sliding down the mattress, he arches his back so that each vertebrae helps push his chest against Ian. “Ian,” he whispers, lips brushing down over his ear. He keeps pressing into Ian, dropping kisses behind the curve of Ian’s ear and down his jawline. “Ian.” His voice is more insistent this time.

The smile on Ian’s lips is clear in the humming noise he makes as he wakes slowly. “Mick?”

“I can’t sleep,” Mickey kisses down Ian’s neck, each movement slow and drawn out. He sucks a kiss over the pulse point in Ian’s neck and rolls his hips into his boyfriend’s. “I know we gotta talk…about today…but…I just want to feel you where you’re supposed to be.” There are meanings behind each of Mickey’s words that he hopes Ian understand.

“Ohh, yeah?” Ian turns so that he can roll on top of Mickey, bracing his weight on his forearms. He purrs into the onslaught Mickey’s launched against his trigger points, stretching his head to the left so Mickey can have less obstructed access.

“Yeah. You fucking _do it_ for me.” Mickey nips at a bruise he just sucked along Ian’s neck and smirks when the man yelps. “I’m sorry I was a train wreck today. I hope you still wanna get on me.” Mickey rolls his hips more firmly to emphasis his point.

Ian laughs, sleep far away from his thoughts and actions. “As much as vomiting turns me on,” he drawls sarcastically, “this is much better.” He reaches down to hitch one of Mickey’s legs over his hip and grind their growing arousals together.

They’re kissing like the addicts they’ve become in moments like these. Mickey’s hands are hot on Ian’s skin and Ian’s cupping Mickey’s face and pulling him so that he can’t back out of the kiss. They become a clash of tongues and teeth, lips bruising up nicely as they battle for dominance of the kiss.

No one wins, but when Ian finds a way to snake his hand behind Mickey’s balls, he momentarily distracts the man into gasping when Ian’s fingers apply teasing pressure at his entrance.

That’s what Mickey’s been searching for and he lets Ian know. He tilts his chin up and his voice is husky when he speaks. “I want you inside me.”

Licking his lips, Ian’s hand disappears for a moment so he can retrieve their lube but when it returns, it’s slick and slippery enough to slide smoothly along the cleft of Mickey’s ass. He circles the furled ring of muscle at Mickey’s entrance several times before coaxing his finger inside. “Like this?” Ian teases.

“Yeah, more of that,” Mickey breathes out.

“Like this?” Ian asks as he eases the entirety of his finger inside, pulling it out slowly before repeating the action.

Air escapes Mickey’s lungs with a relieved hiss. The response isn’t from the intrusion itself but the man behind it. He nods and knocks his head against Ian’s so their lips line up again. He bites Ian’s bottom lip and then works their lips together. When he feels the man add another finger, he smiles. “Yeah, more like that.”

Ian rolls his hips in time with the push and pull of his fingers inside the man under him. By the time he gets to three fingers inside his boyfriend, he feels like he’s pushing Mickey up the mattress and pushing louder gasps of air from his lungs. His other hand finds the time to slick both their dicks up, making the feeling of them sliding against each other all the more delicious. With practiced movements, Ian curls his fingers. It takes him two tries but he finds the bundle of nerves that short-circuits Mickey’s body.

“Ugh,” Mickey moans, arms locking around Ian’s upper back and pulling them together as he rolls through the pleasure. Ian’s good at hitting his prostate. He does it just right and doesn’t overload him. He’s always riding the edge of having enough and wanting more. He chases Ian’s fingers, moving his hips so he can get as much as Ian’s fingers inside of him as possible. Ian scissors his fingers, curls them and strokes Mickey’s inside, demolishing any memory of Dr. Fretto being their earlier. Right now, that space belong to Ian and he was claiming ownership by stimulating Mickey’s prostate again and spilling a litany of curses from Mickey’s lips.

“More. Now.” Mickey demands.

“Yeah, I got you.” Ian pulls back so he can look into Mickey’s eyes for a moment. They’re torn open, green and blue eyes bleeding mirrored emotions. “Fuck. I need you Mickey.” Ian sucks in his bottom lip, something threatening to slip out, but he stops it by giving Mickey a soul searing kiss.

“Get in me already,” Mickey quips. He gives the meat of Ian’s ass a squeeze and growls playfully. He barely had the words out before Ian’s pulling Mickey down the bed so that his head isn’t going to bang into the headboard and hooks the older man’s legs over his shoulders. When Ian lines up and pushes inside, Mickey’s legs fold back against him so that his knees practically touch his shoulders. Ian’s so deep that Mickey can forget there is anything else inside him.

It’s just Ian.

“Fuck, yes.” Mickey’s head lolls back, his spine arches, and he welcomes the stretch of having Ian’s dick working him open. He loves this part. The push and pull of their bodies and the way they fit together.

Ian’s breath starts coming in short panting sounds as he builds up his pace until he’s pounding into Mickey. “Shit, Mick…you’re so…” Air leave his body in a gasp and his eyes flutter. “…so… _everything_.”

Mickey needs more. He knows how to get there but he’s going to enjoy the much needed ride. “Harder.” His voice sounds ragged.

Ian listens. He goes harder and faster, his dick slamming into Mickey. They pace is brutally pleasurable and he keeps it up for so long that sweat is gleaming over on their skin and things start to fall apart. They gets shaky, about to be thrown out of anyone’s control. “Want my hand or do you think you can come from just my dick? ‘Cause I think you can.” To prove his point, Ian cants Mickey’s hips higher, allowing the head of his dick to hit the man’s prostate. The new angle hitches Mickey’s legs back further and allows for my friction across his dick from being trapped between the two men’s bodies.

“Just you,” Mickey gasps out. He struggles to get enough air into his lungs and has to swallow in an attempt to slow himself. It’s useless. Ian’s going to send him hurdling towards orgasm and the pressure is building in his belly. It’s building and slipping away from him. Ian’s going to have to get him there because his mind is gone. He tenses up, his body constricting around Ian’s dick.

“Holy shit,” Ian groans through clenched teeth. “Holy fucking shit.” Words fall away into babble and his hips piston to a ruthless rhythm. He looks down at Mickey, eyes trying to focus. “Holy shit, baby.” The pet name slips out. It’s probably the wrong one but Ian’s eyes flutter closed and he pushes into Mickey in just the right way.

Mickey’s orgasm is ripped from him. It’s messy and satisfying, making him dig his nails into Ian and come in hot splashes between the two of them. He knows he’s tensing up more and is aware enough to catch on that Ian’s chasing his orgasm. The redhead keeps moving until everything unravels and Ian’s hips grow sloppy until he’s changing praises for Mickey’s ass and broadcasting his release.

It’s a little odd, feeling Ian come inside him and coat his insides but Mickey doesn’t mind it. He hums and rides out the waves of pleasure crashing into them.

They don’t need any words, their heartbeats are plenty loud to discuss what they’re feeling.

Ian buries his face in Mickey’s neck. They’re sweaty messes but Mickey feels whole. He doesn’t feel like a mess at all.

When Ian pulls out, it’s with a hiss of reluctance but they settle beside each other. There is peace.

Mickey’s got _a lot_ of Ian inside of him right now and at the moment, that doesn’t seem so scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. And thank you so much for your feedback in other chapters. Mickey is kind of going to get over being a walking panic attack. He just doesn't know what to do with himself so he's putting all this pressure on himself that he shouldn't shoulder alone.  
> Also - I hope you like Katie. She's fun.


	7. Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Mentions of blood, if that makes you queasy, skip around

There is a series of cracking running down Ian’s spine as he enters his apartment and arches his back. The muscles throb in a way that reminds him he shouldn’t spend so much time bent over the furniture he’s working on. Stretching out like a cat, he catches the top of the frame as he walks through the doorway and pauses enough to let his weight redistribute and muscles lengthen.

Their apartment appears empty but he can hear the sound of water coming down in heavy slaps onto the shower floor.

Spending some quality time under the shower’s hot water is a great idea; he’s dirty enough to need one anyway. Adding the fact that Mickey’s already naked and under the spray already, Ian shucks his clothing off a little faster.

Opening the bathroom door lets steam blast him in the face. It’s not like Mickey to take such hot showers. They’re not running out of hot water any time soon but Mickey’s set in his ways like that. Ian makes his way to the shower with very little noise and doesn’t even have to pull the curtain back much; there’s enough room for him to slip in between the small gap. Turns out, Mickey is facing him, hooded eyes popping open when something disturbs the stream of water.

“Jesus!” Mickey shouts, jolting upright. His eyes clear with the immediate recognition that it’s Ian who is standing in front of him but he punches him in the shoulder anyway. “What are you, a fucking ninja?”

Ian smirks and moves so quickly it’s a blur. The water help his hands reach out and snake around Mickey’s body, pulling them so that they’re fitted together. “If I was, I’d have you like this before you even realized I was here.”

Sucking his teeth and leaving his lips parted, Mickey searches for a comeback. He settles on shaking his head at Ian’s playfulness and thumping him on the back of his head.

It only makes Ian hold him tighter. “Didn’t think you’d mind if I joined you.”

“Did I say I minded?” Mickey raises an eyebrow before placing a hand at the base of Ian’s hairline and pulling him down for a kiss. It’s a solid connection that they linger in while water courses over them, droplets rolling down their lashes and cheeks.

Ian keeps up the kiss, hands sliding up and down Mickey’s sides. The moment could easily veer on sexual but really it’s more of a de-stressor. While Ian usually comes home from work a mess, Mickey rarely needs a shower as soon as he gets home unless it’s summer. Usually showering has a dual purpose. It serves to wash off the day and bring them back _home_.  Ian leans in so he can ask, “you okay?”

“Mmm hmm.” Mickey nods while giving Ian’s lips another kiss. “Spent too much time in a crawl space attic. Threw up outside of my car’s window. Have a pounding headache but I’m okay.”

“Sometimes your definition of ‘okay’ needs some work,” Ian mumbles into Mickey’s wet hair before pulling away so they can both get the full effect of the water spraying on them. He tries to shrug but the muscles in his shoulders knot up and he winces.

“Working too hard?” Mickey says, scrubbing at his head to get up a lather of shampoo.

“Leaning over too much,” Ian corrects. “Fucking detail work is impossible to do without the pieces flat out on my work table. He tilts his head to the right and uses his right hand to pull it closer to his shoulder and produce a decent stretch in the left side of his neck. It gives him a chance to watch Mickey rinse out the shampoo. His boyfriend’s eyes are closed to keep the shampoo out when it coasts down his face and over his torso. The soap makes the contours of his body more apparent; it’s impossible to miss the way Mickey’s belly rounds out. It’s not a lot, but the curve is there and obvious to Ian. He’s glad Mickey’s eyes are shut because he doesn’t feel like getting caught staring or having Mickey call him out on the fact that his fingers are twitching against his side like he wants a hands on investigation of this new discovery. He shakes himself out of it before Mickey’s blue eyes are blinking open and finding Ian’s own.

“Come’er.” Mickey mumbles, using his head to gesture that Ian should close the gap between them again. This time, Mickey spins Ian so that he has to brace himself against the shower wall to keep from falling. Even if he didn’t catch the wall, Mickey has him. He keeps firm hands locked over the curve of each of Ian’s shoulders, thumbs digging into the tension near his shoulder blades and fingers working into the tightness in his upper chest. Without needing direction, Mickey starts to massage the areas that have been giving Ian trouble. He knows he hits a good spot when a drawn out sigh leaves Ian’s lips and his head dips forward to hang between his braced arms.

The feeling of Mickey’s fingers working the tension out of his muscles makes Ian melt. He’s content to stay there as long as Mickey’s willing to keep massaging him. Problem is, his brain never knows how to be quiet. It keeps prattling on in the background. When he feels Mickey’s body pressing forward into his back, he knows he can feel the swell of the older man’s belly sliding against his skin. “Mick?”

“Wha’?”

“You’ve got a belly,” Ian says dumbly. It’s not exactly what he wants to say. He was trying to figure out how to get across that they still have unfinished business to talk about as to why Mickey’s sporting a new belly, but all he can do is point out the obvious.

“Fuck you. I do fucking not.” Mickey stops his massage, spinning Ian at the same time so they can look at each other head on. He trips on his words, like the fire behind them is puttering out.

It’s enough to make it clear to Ian that Mickey _knows_ he has a belly. It’s all posturing. They stare at each other for a moment, neither saying a word. Ian’s hand reaches out, sliding fluidly over Mickey’s middle which is solid and warm under his palm. Mickey’s hand catches Ian’s wrist in a lightning fast strike but he doesn’t pull the man away. Instead, they stay frozen like that with their gaze held firmly. Even with the pelting of the water, Ian can hear the thick swallowing sound Mickey makes.

“It’s gonna do that…you know…get bigger and shit,” Mickey says when he breaks the eye contact to look towards the water circling the floor drain.

Ian slides his hand over Mickey’s hip and around so his palm can push against the small of his back and force Mickey to talk a step towards him. “You okay with that?” he asks in earnest.

“No. Not really. Dr. Fretto’s right. It’s like an alien has taken over. I don’t wanna kill the thing so I guess I don’t have any other choice.” Mickey swallows again. The man’s discomfort with the situation is clear and Ian can feel the way he tenses up.

“Yeah…I guess. Not much of a choice about that. But…there’s other choices we can make. Like…at the clinic they said – ” Ian’s words are cut off as Mickey starts talking over him.

“Yeah. I know. I’ve been thinking about that. I…I dunno. I just…is keeping our kid selfish? Or is giving it up for adoption selfish? Sometimes I can’t tell.” He makes eye contact with Ian for a moment before turning his head to the side and nervously scratching at his collar bone.

He doesn’t elaborate any further but he doesn’t need too. Ian gets it. Ian’s already made mental lists about why keeping the baby is a terrible eyes. It’s selfish because Ian wants to have a role in raising something that is inherently part of him and part of Mickey. A baby is something that’s unarguably _them_. But they’re not out of the days where they wonder if they’re able to support themselves. It’s not fair to subject a kid to that type of life. But is it selfless or selfish of them to give their baby up for adoption? Give it to people who have the financial and hopefully emotional stability to care for a kids with more certainty than Ian and Mickey can right now?  Is it selfish giving that responsibility to other people or selfless because they’d rather be left with the hurt of giving their child up for what they think is a better life.

Mickey breaks him out of his thoughts. “I can practically smell smoke.”

“Huh?” Ian breathes out.

“You’re thinking so hard I think you might have started a fire.” Mickey’s actual words may be light but they’re in contrast with the serious look on his face. He shakes his head slowly. “Listen, you want to talk about it. I get it. I wanna talk about it too. But actually talking about it is…” He pauses. “Doing is harder than thinking about doing it.” His palm lands on Ian’s chest, right over his thumping heart. “We’ll talk about it. Okay. I just… _I don’t know_. And I don’t think I’m going to know right now. So, can we just _not know_ for a while? Is it okay if we _not know_?” He looks exhausted by the time he gets through the words.

As much as that doesn’t make sense, it makes sense to Ian. They’re on the same page even though they’re not completely sure what that page reads. “Yeah.” Nodding, he cups the back of Mickey’s head and holds it there a moment before sliding it down to Mickey’s shoulder. “Yeah, that’s okay.” He looks at Mickey and smiles, sighing into the steam surrounding them. “Shit, Mick. You’re as tense as I am.” Trying to let playfulness push through the gravity of the conversation they were just having, Ian grabs both of Mickey’s shoulders and twists him right and left. Mickey responds with a snort, his body going along with Ian’s forced movements without much commitment. He’s got his arms wrapped around his middle like he’s hiding, withdrawn in a way that makes Ian nervous. “Mick,” Ian draws out. “Come back to me.” He slides closer, leaning in so he can attempt to kiss the vacant look off the older man’s face. “Mick,” he repeats, softer this time. He’s not trying to put a bandage on anything but he feels the need to make sure Mickey understands that they’re okay. Sinking lower, he ignores the water blurring his vision when he kisses his way down Mickey’s body. As his knees hit the floor, he looks up at the other man, using a hand to push a mess of hair out his eyes. He leans forward and shoves Mickey’s hands away, kissing slowly without breaking eye contact. He knows he’s got Mickey’s full attention when his fingers wrap around Mickey’s dick and he coaxes it into responding.

“What are you doing?” Mickey questions.

In between kisses, Ian gets out, “I’m trying to help you relax.” His lips smile against the space where Mickey’s hip meets thigh, dragging kisses towards the center of the man’s body. He hugs himself to Mickey’s legs. Mickey is looking at him with wider eyes and his kisses trail over to the growing erection in his hand and travel its length. Everything is slow and drawn out.

“Oh shit,” Mickey moans, head thumping back against the wall while his hand fists the damp hair at the back of Ian’s head. Ian takes him in and Mickey moans again, losing himself to Ian’s mouth and the thrum of pleasure he gets from the fact that they have _this_.

Ian loves that he gets to do this, crash into Mickey’s walls like a wrecking ball and flay him open. There is so much control that Mickey could take right now – it would be okay if he did – but he doesn’t. He lets Ian do this at his own pace. Sometimes, Mickey strays away from the fists curled, lip biting way he comes down Ian’s throat, instead controlling everything from the way Ian moves his head to when Ian can breathe and how fast he goes. But the best times are when he lets Ian drive.

If they can trust each other like that, they’ll be good.

***

Mickey’s fucking tired. He feels like shit. What’s making that fact grate on him even more is that he can’t pinpoint exactly why he feels like shit. He feels off and uncomfortable in his own skin but the feeling isn’t strong enough that it can stop him from finishing out his work day as planned.

He and Ian don’t have typical work schedules so their days off are scattered. Mickey’s had way too many requests for jobs and he’d be an idiot to refuse them. Thankfully, he’s scheduled himself a few days off in a row because he fucking needs them. This new routine of waking up, working, throwing up, working, and wanting to pass out when he gets home is doing a number on him. He misses feeling normal. He misses Ian and all the normal boring stuff he does with Ian. He’s glad Ian has a few days off too, while he waits on some supplies and Mickey is looking forward to doing normal stuff with the other man. Normal stuff like a movie or getting something to eat, preferably something that doesn’t make him throw up.

The thought of not working tomorrow gives Mickey the will power to get through the tail end of his day. Besides, the last job of the day should be an easy one. He got a call from a previous customer, Derek, who wanted a few more power switches placed throughout the house. The groundwork is already done for him, all he has to do is split some wires and snake them from the attic to the wall mount. Piece of cake.

Pulling up at the house, he parks on the street and grabs what he needs from the back of his car. Ringing the doorbell, he remembers the last time he was here and he made a complete fool out of himself in front of the homeowner. He sucks in his lips at the memory and rocks back on his heels.

He doesn’t have to wait long because Derek opens the door wearing the same smile he had went they first met. “Hi! Thank you so much for coming back. I’m sorry we dragged you out here again.”

Mickey shakes his head and waves the apology off. “Nah, it’s fine. Really. Your husband, James?” he asks. When he gets a nod that he was correct, he continues. “James called me at a good time. I was going to be out this way anyway. And it shouldn’t take me more than an hour to have everything settled for you.”

“That’s great. Thanks.” He waves Mickey inside. “Come in. Please.” He pauses to think for a split second and then adds, “Mickey, right?”

“Yeah, man,” Mickey laughs and figures he might as well embrace the embarrassment from the last time he was here. “How could you forget? I bled and threw up all over your new sink.”

“I hadn’t forgotten, I was just being polite,” Derek laughs. “But you clean up after yourself so I was willing to hire you again.” He pauses to laugh again. “No, seriously, I don’t care about that. But the wiring you did for us previously is working perfectly. No complaints there.” He looks like he has something else on the tip of his tongue as he scans curious eyes over Mickey but he holds his tongue.

“Glad everything is working out.” Mickey drops his bag of tools on the floor once they enter the main part of the house. He feels the weight of Derek’s stare but it comes without any negativity. It does, however, make him feel exposed. He has no idea what made him open up about his personal life to Derek before, but he can’t stop himself from continuing with that fact. “Oh, and it’s June 2nd by the way.”

Derek cocks his head. “Huh?”

“The baby. It’s due on June 2nd.” The silence between them hangs there and Mickey stumbles over words to fill it. “You know, ‘cause you asked last time and I wasn’t sure about it then.”

Realization hits Derek and he raises his eyebrows. “Ohh! Wow. Yeah.” He gives a friendly smile. “I’m sure it’ll be here before you know it. Congrats to you and you’re – ”

Mickey knows the sentence is drawn out and left unfinished for a purpose. “Partner,” he states. The vocalization comes with a quick kick of nerves to his stomach but they’re squashed almost before they even have a chance to make themselves known. Instead, he smiles because he has the ability to say the word. He can tell anyone, really, and right now, god knows why, he wants to tell Derek. After taking a moment to let himself recognize that, he clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. “So, uh, what did you need done?”

Derek tells him. They get straight down to business.

The job is easier than Mickey thought. They want a switch to control the fans instead of the outlets in three of the rooms upstairs and the bathroom is getting a new light fixture which they want on a dual light switch.

Mickey works in the silence, a thing that generally works for him in this profession. He can be a people person when he wants to be but the fact that he usually works solo is something he’s more comfortable with.

He’s done quickly and after several trips going up and down from the attic, he thinks he’s ready to turn the power back on and give everything a test run. Unfortunately, Derek decides that’s the moment when he’s going to offer Mickey as glass of water. They collide in the hallway where they last spoke, both letting out a “ouff” of air as their bodies crash together and the glass in Derek’s hand covers Mickey in water.

“What the fuck!” Mickey says as a matter of habit. He’s able to figure out exactly what happened but it still caught him off guard.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!” Derek shakes his head and looks at the wetness darkening the front of Mickey’s shirt and jeans. “I was just coming to see if you were thirsty. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m _always_ not looking where I’m going. Always fifteen steps ahead of my brain.” Looking at Mickey again, he squeaks out, “you’re soaked.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Mickey says with a bit of bite in his words. “Thanks for the drink.” This time the sarcasm drops away and he laughs.

“It’s the thought that counts?” Derek’s statement sounds like a question as he timidly rises his shoulders. “Come on, you can towel off in the bathroom.” He leads the way to a small bathroom a few paces to their left and points. “You can use those towels if you need. They’re clean.”

Mickey nods. “Thanks.”

“Do you want a drink? I mean…in a glass? Not on your person?” Derek babbles a bit, still feeling like an idiot for getting water all over the electrician.

“No. I’m fine.” Before Mickey closes the door, he adds, “Why don’t you go try out all the switches? I think I finished the last of them. I was just coming downstairs to make sure they were working before I let you know I was done.” Derek nods once before turning away, leaving Mickey to dry himself off. He’s not that wet but he doesn’t feel like making the drive home with a damp crotch. Grabbing a towel, he roughly tries to absorb some of the moisture on his jeans. The angle makes it difficult so he decides it’s best to try and remove his pants and underwear in some attempt to wring them out and towel them dry that way.

The plan never gets put into action. Mickey gets as far as removing his jeans and trying to shimmy his was out of his boxers when his eyes catch on something that shouldn’t be part of the light blue fabric. There is a splotch of red there, the type of red that can only come from blood. It’s not huge but it’s there. Once Mickey’s seen it, he feels like he has blinders on and it’s the only thing he can focus on.

His heart speeds up, knowing before his brain does that blood is a bad sign. He’s dealt with blood from all different angles and he can handle it, but blood like _this_ in a place where he’s finding it is never good. The increased rate of his pulse makes him dizzy, causing him to fall against the bathroom wall.

He tentatively brings two fingers between his legs and grazes them over the spot where Dr. Fretto had been way too far inside of him for comfort. Pulling them away, there’s blood, only trace amounts but still enough to keep his heart hammering away in concern.

He doesn’t know if this is normal or not. How could it be normal? He’s probably supposed to be panicking.

His first thought is to call Ian. It strikes him so soundly that he can’t focus on anything else, not even getting re-dressed. Instead, he slumps down to the toilet and fumbles for the cellphone in the pocked of his jeans. His fingers trip over the buttons as he manages to dial Ian’s cell phone, but it goes to voicemail after several rings.  He tries two more times, reaching Ian’s voicemail each time. Every time he hangs up. Somehow, he doesn’t think leaving “hey, I’m miscarrying our kid in a client’s bathroom” on Ian’s voicemail is an appropriate way to get his dilemma across to his boyfriend. Instead, he gets out a hurried, “hey, it’s Mickey, call me the fuck back.”  His voice probably sounds as nervous as he feels and Ian’s heart will forget how to beat for a moment when he hears it, but it’s the best he can do. It gets his point across.

With contacting Ian for some type of direction no longer an option, Mickey’s faced with making a phone call he really doesn’t want to make on his own. He has the clinic’s number in his recent calls list and sends the call through. When the receptionist picks up, he can’t even pretend he’s not freaking out. His words spills out of his lips so quickly he has to repeat himself at a slower pace so that the woman can understand him. She’s so damn calm. Mickey wants to punch her in the face for being so damn calm.

They want him to come in, obviously.

Mickey figured that. But it feels like a moot point.

Why did he let himself care to begin with?

***

When Mickey arrives at the clinic, he tries Ian’s cell phone several more times. He’s the definition of insanity by now, calling Ian, getting his voicemail, hanging up and then repeating the process to find the same results.

He rushed out of the house after babbling something about blood and doctors to Derek. He grabbed his tools and said he’d send them a bill. Derek seemed like the type who would pay Mickey. Even if he didn’t, Mickey’s brain is far from caring right now.

He sits in the waiting room without Ian for the first time and tries to keep breathing. They take him almost immediately, a nurse putting him in a room, giving him a paper gown and asking him to undress.

It’s all quick and he gets that they’re treating this bleeding occurrence as an emergency but the rush feels so clinical, like the humanity has been taken out of the equation.

He sits on the exam table, paper gown doing almost nothing to keep him from feeling exposed. With his hands curled around his middle he feels nauseous thinking about more blood that might be dripping out. It’s all in his head but he imagines being able to feel it coming from a specific spot inside him.

“Mr. Milkovich?” A man in his fifties questions as he walks in the room. He’s wearing a white lab coat and has on a pair of squared black framed glasses. “I’m Dr. McDonald. I’ve been told – ”

“No.” Mickey states.

The doctor is taken back. “Excuse me?”

“No,” Mickey repeats. “Where’s Katie? I…I want to see her…”

“Katie?” The doctor says dumbly, like he’s trying to process Mickey’s abrasive attitude.

“Dr. Fretto. Whatever the fuck her name is. Her. I want to see her.” Keeping his arms crossed, Mickey scowls.

“Dr. Fretto’s with another patient. It might be a while.” Dr. McDonald takes another step into the room. “Listen, you told the staff here you are bleeding. I can catch myself up on all your pregnancy based on the notes from your previous appointments with Dr. Fretto. I think It’s in your best interest –”

“Look, I’m sure you’re really fucking nice and everything but….no. I’ll just wait. Because….you ain’t fucking touching me.” The words have the desired effect, leaving the doctor looking ten different shades of uncomfortable. It’s stupid, maybe, but Katie gets him. This guy? He doesn’t. He doesn’t understand. How could he possibly understand what is in Mickey’s best interest? “I’ll just fucking wait.” By the time he’s done with his rant, he realizes just how loud his voice has gotten. He didn’t mean for that, but his nerves are making him a loose cannon.

The ruckus draws attention. Dr. Fretto pushes the door open, hand on her hip. “What the hell is going on in here?” Her eyes scan the room, filling with recognition when they land on Mickey. “Why am I not surprised?”

Throwing up his hands in defeat, Dr. McDonald turns, drops Mickey’s file in Dr. Fretto’s hands, and scoffs. “He’s all yours.” There is relief in his words and he walks out of the room shaking his head.

Katie closes the door firmly behind him. “I thought my ears were ringing.” Turning to face Mickey, she asks, “so what’s the big fuss that you’ve got Dr. McDonald’s panties in a twist?”

“I’m bleeding.” Mickey’s tone is flat when he says the words.

“Ohh.” Katie almost whispers, mood shifting immediately so that she’s falling into her roll of doctor rather than mediator. “When did it start?”

“I…I don’t know. I noticed it an hour ago. I wasn’t bleeding this morning. So…maybe sometime around noon? I think? Maybe?” Mickey cuts himself off to swallow air.

The doctor isn’t looking at him as she speaks, she’s busy pulling together a tray of tools and breaking down the bed enough so she can pull the stirrups out. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Mickey hasn’t actually thought about that fact. It doesn’t hurt in a painful way. “But I feel like shit. I just…I feel terrible.”

“Like normal pregnancy terrible or worse?” Katie asks.

“I don’t fucking know. What’s the difference? Terrible.” His attitude must bounce off Katie because she don’t flinch.

“I know you hate this part, but legs up. I gotta see what’s going on. I promise, I’ll be as gentle as possible and try to get to the bottom of this – no pun intended – as fast as I can.” Katie smiles, nodding in a way meant to comfort her patient.

Mickey listens without a second thought. He swings his legs into the stirrups, letting her spread them the way she needs. His mind get caught up in the fact that this time is so vastly different than the last time they were in these positions. He isn’t hung up on the discomfort of being exposed, he’s too focused on finding an answer.

Because it’s the only way he has to keep himself from losing the ability to function, Mickey chews his lip raw. With all of Mickey’s discomfort in being pregnant and feeling weak, he should be feeling that way right now. He should feel like he wasn’t strong enough to keep a damn cluster of cells alive. But he can’t feel that, because his stomach knots itself up and lands him in a realm of fear. When he’d talked to Ian about keeping the baby, he’d gotten caught up on the fact that he’d somehow manage to screw this all up. The blood seemed to reaffirm this self-fulfilling prophecy. The thought makes him go rigid. Closing his eyes, he hisses and throws and arm over his face to hide from the world.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No…just…” Mickey doesn’t finish the sentence. Katie’s a doctor, she’s got to know what he’s freaking out about.

“Relax.” Katie pats Mickey’s thigh. “Try, okay? I know it’s hard.” She moves slowly, like she’ll startle Mickey away. “Don’t tighten up on me.” Pausing to see if her patient heeds her instruction, she smiles again. It’s not annoying, because it looks like she believes that she’s got thing under control. “Just give me a minute and we’ll know what we’re working with.”

“I fucked this up, didn’t I?”

“What?”  Dr. Fretto’s head flies up but Mickey avoids her eyes.

“Just tell me. Tell me I fucked this up.”

“No…I mean, you didn’t ‘fuck this up’. You didn’t do anything wrong, at least from what I can tell. There is just a little bit of blood. It can be anything.  _It can be normal_. It’s a common occurrence. It isn’t always a cause for alarm.”

“But sometimes it is.” Mickey’s voice is the polar opposite of Dr. Fretto’s calm, positive one.

Sighing sadly, Katie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sometimes it is. That’s why we’re going to give you a thorough exam and see what is going on.” She moves an exam light closer and shifts her fingers inside Mickey. Pulling them out, there is barely a trace of blood on her fingers. “I think you’re just experiencing spotting. Happens in 30% of pregnancies. Scary as hell if you don’t know what’s going on but it’s normal.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I still need to do an ultrasound but…Mickey, it’s not as bad as you think.” She pauses to try to figure out how to word things. “I mean…having a kid is scary in itself. And some things are just _weird_ but I think this is a type of normal weird.” She turns so she can grab the ultrasound cart. Gel is smeared on Mickey’s middle and she goes to work locating the fetus. After a minute, a short burst of quiet laughter leaves her throat. “You’re lucky I’m exceedingly good at reading these things because that,” she points to something that makes no sense to Mickey, “is the smallest subchorionic hematoma I’ve ever detected.”

“Subchrono-wha?” Mickey raises an eyebrow and tries to figure out the black and white screen the doctor is showing him.

“Subchorionic hematoma. It’s a small blood clot. You didn’t cause it and can’t prevent it. Sometimes it just happens. But they can heal themselves and yours is small enough that I suspect it will. I suggest you take it easy for a while. No heavy lifting or anything too strenuous but,” she pats Mickey’s knee, “this is good news. You’re bleeding but definitely not enough to signify a miscarriage.”

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Mickey raises a hopeful eyebrow at his doctor. “Really?”

“That’s what you thought?” Katie frowns.

The pity makes Mickey tense up but he tries to force it away. “Yeah, well…I mean…” Not knowing what else to say, he decides to answer with a silent nod.

Katie shakes her head sadly again and flips a switch on the ultrasound cart. “Well, you’re fine. Baby’s fine. See?” The whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat fills the room. It’s everywhere all at once, loud and healthy. “You’re okay. Would I tell you otherwise?” She pulls off her gloves and gives Mickey a look of disbelief. “Would I?”

The woman is clearly waiting for an answer to make sure they understand each other. It’s sad that Mickey actually has to think about that question. He’s been lied to so many times in life that the answer doesn’t come immediately. Mickey has to admit, she seems pretty confident in herself. “I guess not.”

“ _Definitely_  not.”

Relief makes Mickey’s head spin. Things went from bad to good so quickly that he feels stupid for making such a fuss. Biting his lip, he feels like he owes Dr. Fretto some type of explanation. He pushes up into a seated positon, the transducer falling to the side and silencing the sound of his kid’s heart. “Look, Doc -”

“Katie,” she corrects.

“Katie,” Mickey starts. “I’m sorry. I just. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I…I didn’t plan on any of this happening and I don’t know what to do now that it is. But…I want this baby to have a shot at life. I just feel like I’m the world’s worst equipped person to get that job done and I…I…fuck.” The words get jumbled up and Mickey feels like he’s spinning. His eyes must flutter back enough because Katie’s got him by the shoulders, helping him lay back onto the exam table.

“Woah, take it easy.” Katie doesn’t ask for permission when she looks into Mickey’s eyes and forces one set of lids open. “Are you eating? Drinking?”

“Yeah, I…what?” Mickey babbles. “What does eating and drinking have to with bleeding?”

“Just answer the question.” Katie pinches at his skin. “Fuck,” she says under her breath.

“Can’t keep much down. So I just save the food the trouble of being thrown up. Don’t eat too much.”

“You’re dehydrated. It’s serious enough that I’m getting you started on an I.V. of fluids.” Katie jumps into action on her own, grabbing the supplies and ignoring Mickey’s protests.

“Look…I’m fine. Just…” Mickey tries to get up again but falls back down.

“Like hell you are.” Katie glares at him as if daring Mickey to challenge her.

“I…I don’t have insurance right now.”

“Shh, it’s our little secret then. I’m not going to get a nurse. I could run an I.V. line in my sleep. And you and I need to have a little doctor-patient talk anyway. So sit tight.”

Turns out, Katie really could do things with her eyes closed. She’s quick. She gets Mickey’s vein on the first try and has a drip set up while Mickey stares at her in silence.

“You know,” Katie starts after minutes of silence and trying to get some more vitals from her patient. “You’re lucky to have caught me here today. It’s my day off but I told a friend I would take her shift. I volunteer here twice a week. If you’re so intent on seeing me, you should just make an appointment with me at my own practice. It’s small but I’m sure I can squeeze you in.”

Mickey stares at the fluid dripping into his system. “Like I said, I don’t have insurance. I wouldn’t be able to pay you. So, while I’d much rather go to your practice than this clinic, we don’t always get what we want.” He looks at Katie, expecting pity again but all she does is raise her eyebrows in amusement. “What?”

“Why did you insist on seeing me today?”

“I dunno. Because you saw me the other times? And…I don’t really like having many people look under the hood but you already did so I figured it would be better. You know…like you knew what you were doing or some shit.” Mickey shrugs.

“There are lots of good doctors here,” Katie says.

“Yeah, well…fuck ‘em.” Mickey goes to say more but he instinctively smacks at Katie’s hand when she starts to palpitate his middle. “Ay!”

Unfazed, Katie swats back at him and keeps examining him. “You need to eat more. I can prescribe something for the nausea if that’s what’s stopping you.” Holding up a hand to stop an oncoming protest, “relax. It’s safe and I can fill it for you for $5.”

Mickey swallows his pride and nods. “Yeah, okay.” Not throwing up sounds _amazing_. If he wasn’t head over heels for some stupid redhead who wouldn’t answer his phone earlier, he could kiss Katie for giving him a way out of being best friends with the toilet bowl. He catches Katie looking at him, an unreadable expression on her face. “What?”

Sighing, she finishes scribbling something in Mickey’s chart and puts it down. “I own my practice. I work here twice a week because I feel good helping people who might not have the best means of medical care. But my practice is small. It’s off the side of my house. I’ve got two exam rooms and a delivery room. I don’t take a ton of patients but…and I don’t mean this in any way to be insulting…I take two patients a year pro bono.”

“I don’t want to be a fucking charity case,” Mickey spits out quickly.

“You’re not. That’s not why I would want to treat you.” She pauses and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re fucking unpredictable. You’re interesting. Hey, if nothing else, you’re not going to be boring. I can do with a little shake up. You’re a challenge and I like a good challenge.” Her lips curve up on one side. “Plus, I like you.”

“You’re not my type.”

“Well you’re not my fucking type either.” Katie shoots back.

Mickey has to laugh at the way she can meet him, blow for blow. “What? Too short for you?”

“Too gay for me,” Katie laughs. She gives it a moment to let Mickey join in and then goes serious. “I mean it, Mickey. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. I mean…aside from what happened in this room. But I do know that it takes a strong person to admit when he or she needs help. And, no offense, I think you need help.” She shifts so she can pull her cell phone out of her pocket. Tapping on the screen for a moment she pulls up the image of a little boy no taller than Mickey’s knee. Turning it so Mickey can see, she says, “this is my son. I love him more than anything in the world but I hated being pregnant with him. I’m good at bringing other people’s babies into the world but terrible at dealing with having my own. I needed help with that. And that’s okay. None of _this_ ,” she says with a gesture to the room, “was any fun but I still survived.” She pauses and shrugs. “This clinic does good work but, I think you need more than a rotational staff of doctors to make sure you and your baby are still kicking and breathing. You’re a bundle of nerves here. It’s no good for you. Or, you know, your kid.” She points to Mickey’s middle.

All Mickey can reply with is, “I’m sorry I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not though. I mean, maybe to Dr. McDonald but the two of us? We’re good. I get it.” Katie smiles. “So do we have a deal then? You come see me at my practice?”

Mickey hashes it out in his head. He does need help, the type that Ian can’t give him. And at some point, this kid that he’s currently trying to make sure stays inside his body is going to need to come out of his body. He likes Katie and they both know it. “Deal.”

“Great!” She fishes a business card out from the back of her cellphone case. “Here is all my information. Call me over there. We’ll schedule another appointment. Right now, I’ll grab your anti-nausea meds. And I might as well get some vitamins for you. I want you to actually take them.” When Mickey doesn’t respond, Katie fishes for an answer. “ _Okay_?”

Mickey sighs, “Yeah.”

“Take them every day. Yeah?” Katie says as she opens the exam room door and hovers in the doorway.

“Okay, yeah, fine. That doesn’t mean I’m going to like it,” Mickey growls out.

Laughing, Katie shakes her head. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” she says before ducking out.

***

The minute Mickey walks in the door of his apartment, he is attacked by Ian. The younger man has his hands on the sides of Mickey’s face and is staring at him with such relief that he can’t get words out. “Where the hell have you been? I tried calling you back. And then you weren’t here and I thought, I…fuck Mick.” Ian’s lips land on Mickey’s, their foreheads knocking together and Ian hooking his fingers under Mickey’s jaw and keeping them close. He’s been too close to fearing the worst and seeing Mickey makes him feel dizzy.

Almost instantly, Mickey feels terrible about the ominous voice message he left for Ian. He knew it would freak him out but at the time he was too freaked out himself to put much thought into it.

“Hey, Ian. It’s okay.” Mickey mirrors Ian’s actions and holds the redhead’s face close, their lips brushing as they talk.

“What the fuck happened? I was working with the saw and power sander, left my cell phone on the table. I couldn’t hear it over all the noise.” Ian’s words come faster, leaving his rate of speaking uneven. “When I finally realized I didn’t have it in my pocket, I had like 40 missed calls. And I called you back. It went straight to voicemail.”

“Yeah, I killed the fucking battery calling your ass.” Mickey smooths down Ian’s hair.

“You’re okay? I…where the fuck were you? I…I…” he stammers. “Fuck Mickey. What the hell deserves 40 missed calls?” Ian’s hovering somewhere over panic and anger

 “I…”  The words don’t come out, despite Mickey’s brain already knowing what he wanted to tell Ian. He’d gone over it several times on the ride over her. But having Ian in his arms now, after the stress of the day, makes him shiver and it’s on the verge of it all almost being too much. The electricity of their connection sparks through him and he slides his arms up Ian’s back, pulling them closer. He doesn’t know what to say anymore because now all he wants to get out is “I was scared” and “I wanted you with me” and “I have no idea what I’m doing.”  He silences all of this by kissing Ian again.

It’s different than any of their usual kisses, and Ian picks up on that right away. It comes with an odd neediness to it, something that cues Ian’s brain into the fact that Mickey needs more than just the physical connection. Ian lets the anger ebb enough so that he can kiss back, both of their breathing dissolving into pants, each exhale getting shakier on Mickey’s part.

Eventually, Mickey can’t hold it together any more. His kisses fall apart into distressed intakes of air and unsteady attempts to keep his lips on Ian’s. His hold on the man falters and Ian’s hands had to come around his hips to keep him steady.

“Whoa, Mickey. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” Still holding Mickey upright, he presses a kiss to Mickey’s cheek and realizes that there is wetness their when his lips come away damp with tears. Eyebrows furrowed in concern, Ian looks at him, cocking his head to the right. “What’s wrong?” He pulls back enough so that he can use his thumbs to wipe away the tears. “Mick, you’re scaring me.”

Pulling away, Mickey wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He has no idea what’s come over him. He feels like an idiot for crying when he held it together so well through everything else. But Ian looks like he’s about to fall apart and Mickey feels like shit for doing that to him. Part of his brain feels ridiculous being so worked up over something that had proved to be nothing. The other part of his brain had learned something; he learned that he cares about the little bundle of cell that he swore he never wanted to grow there. That paradigm shift is intense and it’s hard to navigate.  “I have to tell you something, but before I do, you should know the baby is fine.”

Though the statement is meant to be reassuring, it clearly fails. Ian’s mouth starts gaping like a fish until he forces, “why wouldn’t the baby be fine?” in a jumble of words.

“I was bleeding today.”

“You, wha?”

“I found blood, from  _there._  It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to scare me. And then I called you…”  He stares at his lap, feeling the overflow of emotions threaten to overtake him for the millionth time that day. He picks away at the reason for breaking down short sentence by short sentence. “And you didn’t pick up.” Covering his eyes with a palm, he snorts. “God, this is so stupid.”

Pulling Mickey’s hand away from his eyes, Ian shakes his head. “Stupid?  No, Mick, it’s not stupid. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left my damn phone on the table. And…you were alone.”

“I was alone.  And I didn’t want to be.” Mickey makes a noise that sounds half desperate and half crazy. “You weren’t there and I wanted you to be. And I couldn’t reach you. So I sat there in the damn waiting room and just kept redialing your number. Like maybe you would pick up and make this situation better. Because, Ian? I have no idea what I’m fucking doing. And it’s freaking me the fuck out.”

Composure breaking, Ian bites his lip and swallows. “Fuck. I can’t even imagine what was going through your head.”

“I thought I lost the baby; _that_  is what was going through my head. I felt like I fucked up, just like I told you I would. And that I can’t do this, even though you want me to. Even though I want to.”

Ian shuts him up with a firm shake of his head. “Shut up. Don’t say that. Don’t you fucking do that.” He kisses Mickey’s forehead. “You’ve got this. I know you. You’re not the problem.” Using his thumbs to dry Mickey’s tears again, he tries to smile softly. The gesture makes it more apparent that his own eyes are wet. “The baby is okay, right?”

Mickey doesn’t hear the question. He’s too caught up in all the things he’s done wrong so far. He’s malnourished, dehydrated, hemorrhaging, which, despite what Katie says, doesn’t ever seem like a normal thing. Sighing, Mickey lets his head fall onto Ian’s chest.

Ian curls his body like he’s sheltering Mickey. He’s making noises to help shush and comfort his partner, kissing his temples. “Let me take care of you for a change?  Okay?” Resting his chin on Mickey’s shoulder, he presses his forehead into his temple. “You can’t do everything on your own, even though you want to. Let me do it for a while, okay?” After a breath hitching stillness, Ian feels Mickey nod. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.  I…”  His voice changes from soft to determined. “There’s no way that is happening ever again. But, the doctor said everything is okay?”

“Yeah. I saw Katie. She said the baby’s great. The bleeding is a…a…something hematoma thing. She said it is normal. It’s like a blood clot, and it can heal itself. I just have to take it easy for a while.”

Ian’s response is immediate. “So we take it easy. We’ve got enough money. Reschedule your jobs for the next two weeks.”

Mickey catches the way that Ian uses “we” and it causes warmth to spread out from his heart. There is no hesitation and that puts Mickey as ease more than anything Katie told him. Feeling a little guilty about not sharing everything Katie had told him, he relaxes into Ian and opens up. “I was dehydrated. She gave me an I.V. even though I thought she was wasting her time. Now, I gotta admit I feel ten times better.” Swallowing, he adds, “Dr. Fretto, Katie, told me that she can see us at her private practice. Said it wouldn’t cost anything. And, Ian? I’d really rather do that. It’s so much better than being tossed in the shuffle at the clinic. So, I told her yes.”

“Sounds good.” Even though there are questions in Ian’s head, he seems to know well enough to let them stay there for now. There is time for questions later. “I was fucking worried about you, Mick.” Twisting his head, he brushes their lips together. “I fucking love you.”

“I know. I love you too. It’s why I was freaking out without you…that’s how much I fucking love you.” Mickey presses into Ian, feeling the weight of the day redistribute so he can handle it. “The kid still looks like an alien,” Mickey says, lightness breaking through the strain in his voice.

Snorting, Ian threads his fingers through Mickey’s hair. “I’m pretty sure it’s not an alien.”

“It better not fucking be or you have some explaining to do.” Mickey senses Ian’s other hand finding its way to Mickey’s belly, covering their alien in a way that leaves Mickey feeling settled.

It’s the first time he really thinks of the baby as theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh wow, I didn't mean to be that cruel to Mickey. But I needed a catalyst.  
> Let me know what you think. I'm trying not to let it get OOC. I don't necessarily think it is OOC because they're in a very different situation and a few years have passed from the show.  
> Please let me know what you think. I feel like the next few chapters will have less angst. Some happy times. WOOHOO.  
> Still don't know if they're having a boy or a girl. It keeps changing since it doesn't impact my outline of the story.


	8. Paradigm Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I figured the boys need a little fluff. So this gets to be a bit of filler. Of course I put a bit of well placed angst in there but mostly it's just them...being them. Mostly it is PG-13 rated until a scene in the middle which is NC-17. Skip around if that isn't your thing.

Ian’s watching Mickey sleep.

It’s something he’s found himself doing quite often over the years.

The problem with Mickey in the beginning was that sleep seemed like the only thing that was able to sneak under Mickey’s defenses. Even then, unless Mickey was pulled into a deep sleep, he was still on edge, his features still strained. Ian used to watch him sleep because softness in Mickey’s facial expressions was something fascinating. Truthfully, Ian still gets caught up in the softness.

As time passed, Ian watched Mickey sleep because he was afraid something would happen to tear that moment away. He was afraid to fall asleep himself because then maybe Mickey wouldn’t be there when he woke up. Maybe things would be different.

Mostly, when Ian had a good day, there was the fear that he’d go to sleep to wake up to a bad day. So, staying up and staring at Mickey seemed like a better option. The memory feels a little creepy when he lets himself think about it too hard, but he decides he’s going to focus on it being endearing instead.

Enough time has passed that Ian’s not afraid to go to sleep anymore, and he’s able to handle the good and bad days. He and Mickey are able to monitor things now after spending a long time learning. They’ve got his mental condition on lock down. Still, it took them a while to feel safe enough in the knowledge that sleep isn’t going to tear either one away from the other; the other one will still be there in the morning.

Moving helped that too. Factors they can’t control are lessened when they move away from family members who have no boundaries. Family is important, Ian and Mickey both know that, but deciding how much of oneself to give over to family is difficult. Therapy helped Ian figure that out. In order for Ian to manage his own well-being, he needs to be a little selfish, and that means time where he gets to put himself first. Of course, “himself” also means “Mickey”, so moving just far enough to keep them on the cusp of, but still out of, the shuffle of drama surrounding their lives is good.

Like Ian’s thoughts are loud enough to stir him, Mickey snuffles in his sleep and wiggles into the pillow more. He’s sleeping on his belly like he always does, arms reaching up and tucked under the pillow. His face crinkles in discomfort and he shifts, rolling slightly to the side so that he’s putting more of his weight on his hip. The blanket slides off in the process until it’s draping low around his naked body.

Mornings are scary sometimes. Ian and Mickey both know that. Mornings come with uncertainty of what the day will bring.

This morning, however, feels safe.

Ian slides down from his sitting position on the bed so that he can lay beside Mickey again, face to face. Mickey’s like a magnet and Ian can’t stop himself from feeling like he’s being pulled towards the other man. Their bodies match up all too familiarly, legs brushing as Ian’s hand comes to rest on Mickey’s hip.

He’s glad Mickey’s actually sleeping and getting the rest that he was told he needs. He’s also glad Mickey didn’t put up a fight about taking a week off from working. The thought makes Ian’s gut twist up because he doesn’t know how long Mickey’s going to be able to keep working. It’s a stressor in the back of his head that buzzes around like there is a loose wire somewhere. Mickey is definitely the type to be determined enough to work through his whole pregnancy but they both know they can’t control everything.

The warmth radiating off Mickey is inviting and Ian shimmies closer. He doesn’t mean for it to happen but the palm he’d rested on Mickey’s hip slips down and lands on his belly. Their magnetic connection intensifies and pushes worry from Ian’s brain. He can’t help himself from getting caught up in the instinctive swell of pride he feels. It’s a bit insane but knowing he helped put that baby inside Mickey makes his head spin. It’s probably a little bit of needing to mark his territory and a lot about the baby being a reminder that they’re in a full-fledged, pretty healthy, actual relationship. He hums in contentment and rolls against Mickey, kissing him gently on the jaw.

Mickey grumbles and scrunches his face but consciousness comes to him kindly and the groaning turns into a quiet laugh as Ian kisses his jaw again. “Hey,” he says, voice still gravely with sleep. His muscles wake up and Mickey stretches into the touch.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ian mumbles into the column of Mickey’s neck.

“Yeah you did.” Mickey swats at Ian but there is no actual effort in it. He rolls directly on top of Ian, propped up on his elbows. “Were you sitting there staring at me again?” His hair is a ruffled mess and he gives Ian an eyebrow raise and grin, looking one part sleepy and one part cocky.

Ian has a retort on his tongue but he lets it die because Mickey actually looks like himself. It’s been a while since he woke up without rings around his eyes and lethargy in his movements. Instead of words, Ian knocks Mickey off balance with a kiss to his collar bone. He’s craving the connection more than anything else. The kisses eventually reach Mickey's lips, making Mickey hum. The two keep kissing as Mickey's body wakes up and reacts to the magnetic pull that drew Ian in to being with.

What breaks them is a grumbling coming from between them. Mickey’s stomach makes it loud and clear that it’s empty and needs Mickey to do something about that.

“Is that you?” Ian asks with a smile.

“Fuck.” Pulling upright, Mickey scratches at the back of his head. “Yeah. I’m fucking starving.”

“ _You’re_ starving?” Ian asks in disbelief. He practically can’t remember a morning in the past few weeks where Mickey hasn’t woken up praying to the porcelain gods and he certainly hasn’t been _starving_. He hasn’t even been mildly hungry.

Narrowing his eyes at Ian like he’s crazy, Mickey raises an eyebrow. “You go deaf or something? Yeah.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he pauses, just realizing what he said. “Oh my god, I’m starving.”

Ian can’t help himself. He kisses the smile that’s forming on Mickey’s lips, reaching up to hold the sides of his face and pull him into a deeper kiss. It’s the stupidest of small milestones but the lightness of it raises him above the things he’d been thinking about earlier. The kisses get punctuated, each ending with a drag of teeth over the other’s bottom lip. Ian smiles himself, still holding Mickey’s face so that he can push him away enough to actually speak. “Since you’re ‘fucking starving’, what do you wanna eat?”

There is barely a beat before Mickey responds, “scrambled eggs and bacon. Lots of bacon.”

“I don’t think we have any bacon. Sausage okay?”

“Yeah. It’s meat.”

“Okay, sausage and eggs coming up.” Ian gently rolls them, slipping out of bed and padding towards the kitchen. He’s on auto-pilot as he gets a pot of coffee going and pulls out a pan to start working on the scrambled eggs and sausage. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips despite the fact that making breakfast for Mickey isn’t anything special. He and Mickey make meals for each other all the time. This morning, however, taking care of Mickey feels cathartic. He’s felt a bit helpless, not sure how to make Mickey feel better, but breakfast? Breakfast Ian can handle. He can do that.

Mickey goes about grumbling in the bed. He might be hungry but he’s not shy about letting it be known that he’s never going to be a morning person, regardless of how hungry he is. He’s awake enough to stumble out of bed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts slung low on his hips and amble to Ian’s side. Once saddled beside him, he slaps one of Ian’s ass cheeks and snorts. The move is almost second nature but it makes Ian jump a tiny bit and an amused huff leaves his lungs. Mickey runs a hand over his face and reaches for his coffee mug with the other, filling it from the pot Ian just made. Everything about his movements are routine, having long settled into being habit bordering on domestic.

Ian watches him in silence for a moment then pipes up. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be having that.”

Mickey’s response is to blatantly ignore him for a beat while bringing the mug to his lips and taking a large sip. His eyes are closed and a noise of contentment leaves his throat. When he opens his eyes to find Ian giving him a pointed stare, he flips the other man the middle finger and sets his jaw, keeping their eyes locked as he takes another large sip.

“Mick,” Ian whines.

“ _Ian_.”

“You should’t – ”

Mickey cuts Ian off. “Fuck you. You take this coffee away and I _will_ kill you and hide your body where no one will ever find you.” Sitting down at their small table, he props both elbows on top of it and looks at Ian. “I haven’t been able to stomach the smell of coffee in weeks. I fucking missed it.” He pauses to take another sip. “And I can have _one_ cup.”

Ian’s expression changes to a smirk. “So you listen.”

“I listen,” Mickey says, giving Ian a mock ‘aren’t you proud of me’ look.

That look right there melts Ian. Mickey looks bristly but he also looks downright adorable. It’s not a word Ian always uses to describe his boyfriend but with the bedhead Mickey has going on and the tiny paunch curving over the waistband of his boxer shorts, the word fits. He leaves Mickey to make love to his coffee cup while he drops some sausage links to frizzle in the pan.

The smells of breakfast fill the kitchen and it isn’t long before Ian’s dishing out two servings of scrambled eggs and bacon. If a little extra happens to find itself onto Mickey’s plate, he’s not going to broadcast that. He walks to the table to deposit the plate in front of Mickey and finds that he’s moved on to popping open prescription pill bottles and making two piles. When he’s finished, Mickey pushes one towards Ian’s seat and keeps the other in front of him. “Oh my god. I’m you,” Mickey says with a sideways grin as he pops the pills in his mouth and swallows them down with a bottle of water left on the table.

It’s Ian’s turn to shove his middle finger in Mickey’s face. “Ha ha,” he deadpans and drops the plate in front of Mickey. “Fuck you,” he adds, but the words mean nothing because he kisses the top of Mickey’s head, proving he’s unfazed. He lingers there so he can breathe Mickey in, making sure he still smells like home and that all is right in the world. Then he pulls away and playfully thumps him on the back of the head. The truth is, they have to joke about things like his daily medication regime. It’s how they keep things light. If they can talk openly about it, then it takes the sting out of making Ian feel like a social deviant, which he knows he isn’t but sometimes society labels him with that. “Now you know how it feels.” He plops his food down to the left of Mickey and goes to retrieve his own mug of coffee and some forks. Sitting down, Ian waits to take a bit of his food until Mickey starts eating. It’s just scrambled eggs, nothing remotely impressive, but the look on Mickey’s face makes Ian’s heart skip a beat. It’s a mixture between relieved and satisfied, which Ian supposed Mickey is because lately he doesn’t eat breakfast. He just throws up, showers, maybe throws up again and heads off to work. It’s the first time Ian’s actually seen Mickey eat in a long time. He _knows_ the other man has actually been eating, but seeing it settles some of the uneasiness in Ian’s body. “Good?”

“Mmm hmm,” Mickey nods while chewing.

There’s not much to say after that. They both eat, legs tangling under the table for a lot of reasons other than the fact that they’re vying for the small amount of space. It’s tiny things like that, like the way that Mickey’s foot finds a way to tuck under Ian’s ankle and flex so that his toes rest on the top arch of Ian’s foot, that are the biggest “I love you” in the world.

***

Mickey stretches, fingers intertwined and reaching towards the sky as he arches his back. He squints as his eyes adjust to the brightness of the day after spending hours in the dark movie theater. Deciding to do nothing with his day more strenuous than watching a movie with Ian is feeling like a pretty good plan right now.

He’s used to constantly working or some loose definition of “work”. Mostly, he’s used to running around all day and trying to get something done. What he’s really used to, is spending his time figuring out how to make money because that's what everything about his early survival circled around. That need is still there but once he and Ian moved, the pull to constantly keep moving has started to diminish. So when Dr. Fretto suggested that he take some time off to do nothing, he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. Having hours to spend doing “nothing” leaves him at a loss over how, exactly, to do “nothing”.

He’s never really had that luxury. Even in juvie, when he couldn’t “work” by normal standards, he was always doing something. Always keeping up a reputation or working out. Back home he was always working on a scheme and trying to figure out if that scheme was enough to keep him afloat. Before his father was out of the picture, he was working to steer clear of him. Quite frankly, it was fucking exhausting.

In his life now, he doesn’t have much to do other than work his legitimate job, pay bills, and get surrounded by Ian. He’s got some time for acquaintances, people they’ve met that are regulars at the bar they pop into. But bars are off his to-do list for now, so Mickey is left with trying to fill his time with nothing.

“You okay?” Ian asks, reminding Mickey that the other man has been beside him the whole time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mickey gives an apologetic smile for zoning out. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Umm, doing nothing?” The statement comes out with so much uncertainty that it seems like he’s asking Ian rather than telling him. Deep down, he’s torn about doing nothing because it goes against so much of his moral fiber. He’s used to working through everything even though it’s hard or dangerous or just plain stupid. But this hemorrhaging thing isn’t something he can power through, at least not without endangering something – someone – other than himself. That’s something he’s not willing to do.

Ian seems to get that because he doesn’t push further. “Come on, let’s get something to eat, okay?” He smiles and shoves his hands in his pockets to ward them from the chill in the air. “I’m feeling like Chinese. That alright by you?”

It’s more than alright by Mickey. It make his mouth water and his stomach grumbles, something he’s getting really annoyed about. He has no good reason to hate the fact that his body decides to be quite obvious about when it’s hungry, which is precisely why he loathes it. Mickey gives his middle a scowl like it’s actually going to intimidate it but gives up when all his stomach does is gurgle again. “It’s a fucking alien,” he says, face still looking down at his stomach but eyes moving so he can catch Ian's gaze.

Ian laughs. “Does the alien want Chinese food?”

“Fucking yes it wants Chinese food. It wants _every_ food. It’s like making up for lost time or something.” Mickey scratches at the back of his neck, rant dying down as he looks away from Ian.

“Okay, then we’ll get it Chinese food and anything else it might want.” Ian smiles but it turns to a concerned pressing of his lips when he notices the quick shift in his boyfriend. “Hey, what?”

“We’re talking about a kid, you know? A kid that’s in me. And it’s weird because _I_ want Chinese food but I also think _it_ wants Chinese food too. It’s weird having this thing in my body and it’s making me crazy because I want to just do something to feel like me again but I can’t. I have to do _nothing_ which is not who I am. I don’t do _nothing_. And...” Mickey realizes he opened the flood gates and too much got out, enough so that he can’t stop it now. “And my fucking pants don’t fit.”

“Well that came out of nowhere,” Ian thinks out loud.

“Ya think?” Mickey agrees, turning a palm up and nodding too quickly. It isn’t really out of nowhere but how can Ian know that? It’s been floating in Mickey's head for days. His jeans have been tight for a while now but he’s just dealt with the denim digging into his belly or tried to push them down lower. That helped but sitting in the theater made it more apparent that attempting to wear the same pants for the duration of his pregnancy isn’t going to work. Of course it isn’t. He’s not stupid enough to think that would work. But now he has to deal with it and dealing with it is always a kick in the ass for him.  He’s 17 weeks right now and he’s been doing some research, away from Ian’s eyes. It’s stupid to hide like that but he feels a little silly getting caught looking at images of what his belly should look like at 17 weeks. By all accounts, his belly is way smaller than a lot of the reference photos he’s looked at, but not the smallest. It’s not going to stay that small. He’s been reading. He gets it. Shaking his head, Mickey notices Ian’s still looking at him and he goes back to the conversation. “They’re just tight. Okay? I need new pants.”

“You could just walk around without. I mean, I won’t mind or anything – hey!” He puts up his hands defensively when Mickey lands a punch to his side. “I’m fucking kidding. Relax.” Smoothing down his shirt, he says, “so we’ll go get you some new pants and then we’ll get Chinese food,” likes it’s no big deal.

Mickey’s stomach is not on board with that plan and it grumbles for good measure. “Chinese food first, then pants.”

Ian nods, voice soft and sincere when he agrees. “Yeah, sure, whatever the alien wants.”

Mickey thinks that maybe they should stop calling it “alien” because sometimes, like right now, it sends his brain a flash of the gruesome scenes of the movies. He knows the kid has to get out of him, but he’s not ready to deal with that right now. And when he does, he never wants to think of the kid devouring its way out. Snorting, he glares a warning at Ian. “If this alien is anything like the chestbuster in the _Alien_ movies, then I hope it eats your face.”

Ian’s laugh comes out like a bark and he all but pitches forward with a hand wrapped around his own waist. “You’re so fucking romantic Mick, you know that?”

“Shut up,” Mickey snorts but he’s laughing now too, which is much better than he felt before. Riding these waves is exhausting in their own right. He steps out in front of Ian, leading the way towards the small Chinese place near the theater. Ian jogs to catch up to him, falling in step beside him. This kid is so lucky that Mickey loves its other dad because without that, the fetus wouldn’t have stood a chance.

***

Ian’s not normally a sore loser. Competitive, yes. But a sore loser? No.

So Mickey’s not sure why he’s got such a stick up his ass about the fact that Mickey’s pulverizing him in every videogame they’ve passed the time with today.

To be fair, Ian deserves it. Mickey had to put up with buying fucking paternity pants – _paternity pants_ – and he needs something to take his mind off of that perceived blow to his manliness. Ian was actually a good sport about it. He said _nothing_ , which was probably really hard. When Ian is _Ian_ , he always runs his mouth like a stream of consciousness that he needs to tell the world about. But he was quiet. Hanging back so that Mickey could get in and out of the store as quickly as possible.

And while he may have bitched about needing new pants, now that Mickey’s got them on, he’s thankful that he actually bit the bullet and bought them. They’re fucking comfortable.

Ian gives up, tossing the controller to the side and standing up to get a glass of water. He downs most of it before passing it to Mickey. Mickey drinks the rest without taking his eyes off the television and hands the glass back to Ian.

For as much as he felt torn about having to sit around and do nothing for a few weeks, he’s actually warmed up to the idea. It’s nice, having nowhere to go and being able to let go of the guilt of not making money. Ian was right when he said they had enough money to allow them a few days off from work. It’s just a blip in their radar, nothing worthy of an anxiety attack. Mickey is lost in that thought and the game, making him jump when he feels Ian’s lips on his neck. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Distracting you,” Ian breathes out, lips traveling lower towards Mickey’s collar bone and coaxing a shiver out of the man. “I figure if you're going to keep kicking my ass on the screen, I can give you a bit of a handicap. See how well you do with my lips here,” he kisses lower, tugging down the V of Mickey’s shirt so he can kiss one pec and then ghost over a nipple, “and here,” he moves to repeat the actions on the other side of Mickey’s chest, “and here.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Mickey groans out, moving to put the controller down but Ian’s hands cover his own and force him to keep the controller on his lap.

“No. Keep playing. Don’t let me stop you,” Ian breathes out as he go back to Mickey’s neck, kissing and nipping upwards until he reaches the sensitive spot behind Mickey’s ear and he kisses it.

“Oh fuck,” Mickey repeats because his brain can’t think of other words at the moment. His fingers move dumbly over the controller but he’s fucked. He makes a mistake and his avatar is shot to hell. The scene restarts and his eyes flutter when Ian sucks on a pulse point at the exact moment his hand slips under Mickey’s jeans to the man’s dick. Ian’s fingers curl around him, pumping the length several times.

“Can’t focus?” Ian teases. He takes the moment to capture Mickey’s lips, kissing him firmly before trailing down his chest again. Once again, Mickey tries to get rid of the controller but Ian stops him. “No. Let’s see how good you are with my lips wrapped around your dick.”

The tone in Ian’s voice almost has Mickey coming in his new jeans. He swallows thickly and blinks down at him. He has absolutely no desire to keep playing the video game but he doesn’t want to put a kink in Ian’s plan. He too wants to see what type of distraction Ian’s lips will be when they’re swallowing Mickey’s arousal. A breathy gasp leaves his mouth while Ian’s kisses inch downwards slowly, like he’s taking his damn time to ensure that Mickey’s electrified. Mickey’s fingers do _something_ on the controller but he’s pretty sure it can’t be defined as playing the game because mostly he’s just mashing buttons and trying to get Ian to hurry up. “You fucking win, Ian. You win, you – !” He almost yelps when Ian roughly pulls his jeans down. The movement ends up yanking Mickey so that he slides down the couch’s backrest. His legs are splayed and Ian is settled between them, grinning and he grabs the controller from Mickey, throwing it aside.

“That didn’t take long.” Ian kisses the inside of Mickey’s thigh once before giving him what he really wants. He licks up the hardened shaft and rolls his tongue around the tip.

“You don’t play fair,” Mickey gasps, hand sliding through Ian's hair and fisting it loosely.

“Do you want me to?” Ian asks after swallowing Mickey down once and popping off. He smirks at the way the movement makes Mickey’s eyes flutter back momentarily. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

It’s a giant “no”. Mickey loves beating Ian but he’d let the man win every single video game if this is the consolation prize. Ian’s mouth feels hot and heavenly as it bobs down onto Mickey’s dick. All Mickey can do is moan and hold on. Biting his lower lip, he watches the redhead work. Ian’s thorough, making sure to move his head and tongue in ways that have Mickey groaning and bucking his hips upwards. It’s not too much of a buck because Ian’s got one hand on Mickey’s hip, steadying him to keep him where he wants him. Things – chemicals, hormones, whatever – swirl inside Mickey and he feels like he’s vibrating. “Ian…I’m gonna…shit. Stop. I don’t wanna come yet.” But Ian doesn’t listen. He keeps swallowing Mickey down and hallowing his cheeks. “Ian, fuck me. Come on,” Mickey tries again.

Ian pulls off this time, sitting back on his heels and looking at Mickey. And Mickey sees _it_ , the thing that’s had Ian distracted earlier. It’s worry and concern, all floating to the forefront of the man’s eyes.

“What?” Mickey asks.

“Mick, I wanna… _god_ knows I wanna,” He groans out the last part, hand coming to squeeze his own denim clad erection to emphasize his point. “I just…” His bottom lip is swollen from the blowjob and he chews on it.

“What?” Mickey repeats. “Come on Ian,” he gestures to his dick bobbing out in the open, slick with Ian’s saliva and air hits it, making him shiver.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” The words are whispered.

Mickey almost laughs. They’ve done a lot more to hurt each other than fucking. His brain is cloudy with arousal and he can’t understand what Ian’s getting at. “What the – ”

“I don’t wanna hurt our…alien. You know? Like…do you think I will hurt it if I fuck you? Are we allowed to…you know?” Ian licks his lips.

That is a blow to Mickey’s erection. “Oh.” He leaves his jaw dropped for a second as Ian’s words kick in. He gets it now but that doesn’t mean he has an answer. “I don’t know,” he whispers.

“Me either. And…you were bleeding. So I don’t wanna…fuck you. I mean, _I wanna fuck you_ , oh god Mick, I wanna fuck you so bad. But…I figured this is the next best thing? Because if I hurt you, like that, I would throw myself out a window.” Ian swallows and tries to look composed.

“Don’t go throwing yourself out windows,” Mickey says, because it’s the first thing that comes to his mind. The second thing is that he knows Ian’s right. He probably shouldn’t do anything. His brain wasn’t really focused on sex the last time he saw Dr. Fretto. “I…I called the doc to make a follow-up appointment. Remember? We can ask her tomorrow, okay?” Ian nods but still looks distant. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Mickey slides to the floor, landing in front of Ian. His hands stretch up and cup Ian’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s soft at first but Mickey keeps it up until it gets a little rougher, strong enough to remind Ian that Mickey’s solid.

It does the trick. The connection sends renewed waves of arousal crashing into Mickey, only this time he has other plans for Ian. He wants to get off, and he will, but he needs to be a little rough with Ian. He needs to make him remember who he is. Pulling back, he slams a palm into Ian’s chest, forcing the taller man to backwards the floor. Ian gasps but Mickey swallows it down with a wild kiss. Grabbing both of Ian’s wrists, he pins them together over Ian’s head with one hand, using his strength to keep them there while he jerks Ian’s jeans open with his other hand. Right now, he’s in control and Ian better fucking like it.

Of course, Ian does. He moans in ways that go straight to Mickey’s dick and rolls his hips at an attempt to find friction. Ian gets what he wants when Mickey’s hand covers his arousal. “Mick,” he groans through the mash up of their lips.

“Shh,” Mickey says, kissing so that no more words can get out. It’s just gasps and moans. His hand starts working Ian’s dick, twisting the way that always elicits a shudder from Ian and his thumb swipes away the precome building on the tip. After deciding that Ian’s had enough of his hand, Mickey lets go of him so that he can crawl backwards. With one fist wrapped around the base of Ian’s dick, his mouth finds the tip and he swallows him down.

Mickey gives it to Ian the way he thinks they both need it right now. It’s fast and dirty but it’s so unequivocally _them_.

Ian’s back is arching, hands fisting Mickey’s hair, and his head is pressing into the carpeted floor. He groans and writhes on the floor but Mickey keeps up his ministrations till it’s a losing battle for Ian. Ian’s coming down Mickey’s throat with a stiffening of his body and a jerk of his hips. “Shiiiit,” he groans out, fingers knotted in Mickey’s hair and eyes squeezed shut.

Mickey lets Ian ride out his orgasm; he licks him clean and swallows, distantly aware that he’s glad whatever pills Dr. Fretto prescribed for him keep the nausea away from moments when he’s swallowing his partner’s come.

The moment fades and they come back to themselves, both quiet and regulating their breathing. Mickey rolls so that he’s on his back and staring at the ceiling. He loves the fact that he can hear every noise Ian’s making and they all indicate that his mind is a bit blown. Blinking quickly, he focuses on Ian’s face as he suddenly hovers over him.

“Who doesn’t play fair now?” Ian asks with a grin. There is no warning when he pulls Mickey into a sitting positon and shoves him back against the couch, intent on finishing what he’d started in the first place.

Eyes fluttering closed, Mickey hums in the satisfaction that surrounds him at the same time Ian’s mouth does.

***

The nice thing about seeing Dr. Fretto at her private practice is that there really isn’t a waiting room. There is a receptionist desk but Dr. Fretto – Katie as she keeps remind them – is sitting behind it. She doesn’t have any other patients for the day and she send her part time receptionist home.

Instead of waiting in discomfort at the clinic, Katie shows Mickey and Ian to one of the two exam rooms she has. There is no waiting for a doctor because she’s already standing in front of them.

The other nice thing about being here is that, this time, Ian’s here. There is no more frantic resending of calls on his cell phone. Mickey gets to actually arrive at an appointment without a giant ball of dread lodged in his throat.

“I’m glad you took me up on my offer. I know you promised to call but I wasn’t going to jinx it by putting much hope into it.” Katie smiles and leans against the small counter.

“Yeah, well…you’re slightly less intolerable than anyone at the clinic,” Mickey says with a shrug.

“Well you’re slightly more intolerable than any of my patients. So I guess I got the short end of the straw on that deal.” The jibe sounds harsh but Katie ends it with a laugh.

For his part, Ian looks confused. He moves his gaze from the doctor to his boyfriend, trying to make out what’s going on between them. He watches Mickey’s scowl turn into a smile as he snorts. It sets the tone for the appointment.

Katie finishes up a laugh and smiles. “So, how’s the bleeding?”

“Gone. I mean…I think.” Mickey licks his lips.

“Great. You’ve been resting?” She asks Mickey and when he nods she turns her attention towards Ian. “He’s been resting?” she asks again.

“I’m right here,” Mickey grumbles.

Katie raises an eyebrow at him and crosses her arms over her chest. “I know that. I wasn’t talking to you though.” She turns back to Ian expectantly. “So?”

“Yeah. He’s been resting. I’ve been,” Ian shrugs, looking for the right word, “forcing him to.”

“Good man!” Katie smile. “It’s Ian, right?”

Ian nods. “Yeah.”

Katie turns towards Mickey and gestures towards Ian with a jab of her thumb. “I like him.”

“Too bad. He’s mine,” the words come out of Mickey’s mouth sounding possessive and teasing.

“Yeah well, I’m just saying,” Katie taps her chin with a finger.

“He’s also not your type,” Mickey banters.

“Aww, what?” Katie whines playfully. “He’s gay too?” She gives a mock falling of her shoulders. “All the good ones are gay, huh?”

Ian looks shell shocked, dazed as his head bounces back and forth while he follows the repartee between the two. He’s not sure what he’s seeing because Mickey’s being downright playful with the doctor and he’s not sure when that happened. “Uhh, what the hell is going on?” he questions.

Mickey lets himself laugh over the expression on Ian’s face. “Nothing…just, last time she told me I wasn’t her type because I’m gay so…” He flicks his hand like he’s trying to brush something off. “You know what…don’t worry about it. It’s a joke.”

Ian’s body language makes it clear that he isn’t worried about it. “No..I’m just…I’m glad you’re laughing and not plotting ways to burrow out of here. I…I’m just glad.” He turns to Katie and turns both palms up in the air. “I have no idea what you did, but thanks.”

Still keeping up a teasing nature to her words, Katie feigns surprise. “Wait, you mean he’s not always this personable?”

Ian’s response is on his tongue in a split second. “He is when you get to know him.” Smiling, he nods. “Just…you know…thanks.”

“All part of my job,” Katie says with a returning nod. “So, do you wanna chit-chat all day or should we actually get down to business. You know, make sure you’re not bleeding and the baby is still cooking?”

“Yeah. Great. That.” Mickey gets out.

It’s almost sad that this part of the appointment is so familiar to Mickey. Having never had an ultrasound in his life before, he’s been on the receiving end four times in almost four weeks. Katie’s set up is a bit different but her screen is larger and positioned so that it’s a little easier to read. She pushes his shirt up and squirts an S of gel on his stomach.

“Someone’s finally got a belly, huh?” Katie asks, rolling the transducer over the skin.

“Fuck off,” Mickey snaps. “Do not.”

Katie puts her hands up in surrender but mouths, “he does” to Ian.

Ian snorts in amusement. “It’s fucking cute.”

“It is,” Katie agrees.

“God,” Mickey growls, pressing his head back against the exam table. “It fucking is not.” Because it isn’t. He’s not _cute_. That’s just weird.

“It is,” Katie mouths to Ian. They share a laugh and a couple of death glares from Mickey. They’re immune to them, which is probably a good thing considering they’ve got quite a few more weeks to spend together. The argument of Mickey’s belly is put on hold when Katie finds the fetus and manipulates the transducer so that the profile is clear on the screen. “There you go.”

It’s a fucking person.

Mickey swallows as he realizes this. Every time he sees the image of what is inside him on that screen he is struck by how it looks more like a human each time. The baby looks like it is stretching and Mickey hears Ian’s breathing still.

“Can you feel that?” Ian asks.

Mickey shakes his head. “Nah, I….I can’t. That’s fucking weird.” He watches the baby wiggle and is at a loss for words.

“Not weird,” Katie corrects. It’s normal. Most people can’t feel anything until 20 weeks. Don’t worry about it. There is a lot of natural cushioning in there to absorb most of the movement.” Katie’s focus goes back to the screen. She consults her notes for a moment and then moves the wand to search around the fetus. “Head looks real good. Limbs too. And it looks like you healed up pretty well. I can’t really detect anything but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Like I said, it was pretty small to begin with. So to err on the side of caution, you can go back to normal activities, but don’t push yourself harder than that. Nothing strenuous.”

Licking his lips, Mickey asks, “Can I work?”

The question seems to shock Katie into a realization. “Holy shit, I never asked you what you do for a living.”

“I’m an electrician.”

“Hmm, well…that’s a complicated answer. I mean, yes. You can work. I’ve actually had quite a few patients who are electricians and they worked right up until they went into labor. The tricky part comes in by the fact that you have to limit some of the types of jobs you do. Right now, you’re small. It’s probably easy to get around and do things. But as time progresses, being on your own two feet, on the ground, is probably best. Ladders and a messed up center of balance don’t end well. So we’ll have to play it by ear. And as a general rule, electricity and pregnancy are not really a good mix. If you’re working on wires, make sure the power is _off_. Don’t get cocky. Turn it off.”

Mickey processes it. It’s not really as bad as he feared. He makes his own hours and takes whatever jobs he wants. That gives him the ability to control exactly what he does during the workday. “Okay.”

Maybe she was surprised that there was no fight or she’s just happy her patient understands, Katie gives a relieved smile. She goes back to the screen and freezes it. “Do you two want to know the gender?”

Ian and Mickey blink at each other. Licking his lips, Ian says, “shit, I dunno. You can tell that?”

“Yeah. The kid is being _really_ cooperative right now.”

“Do you wanna?” Ian asks uncertainly.

They had never gotten to this point in any discussion. Their rule to take things one step at a time hadn’t predicted this step. They hadn’t even solidified keeping it or not. Finding out the gender of their baby felt too personal. It was something a lot of people had emotional moments over and he wasn’t ready for that. “No!” he says more forcefully than he means to. He puts a hand in the air like he’s trying to push the discomfort away. “I mean, no…I just….it’s kind of a lot.” Licking his lips, he elaborates. “It’s freaking me out enough that I have a head and two sets of hands and legs growing inside of me. I don’t need to think about having a penis or vagina growing in me as well.”

Ian coughs like he’s choking on air before he laughs. “I’m sorry, that sounds funny when you put it that way. That _is_ weird. Penis growing inside you…” his words trail off into another round of laughter.

“Well, since I’m pretty sure I can figure out how that baby got in there, a penis growing inside him is how this whole thing started,” Katie adds. When both men look at her with wide eyes, she shrugs. “What? Did I cross a line?”

“Yes,” both men answer at once.

“Okay, then…well do you have any other questions before we get to the not so fun part of the exam?” Katie asks.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin. Finally, Ian clears his throat. “I was uh…wondering…could we, you know, have sex?”

Nodding, Katie says, “Yeah. Of course. Plenty of people have sex throughout their pregnancy. Did you have a reason to be concerned?”

“Well, I…I just didn’t want to hurt the baby – ” Ian barely gets out before Katie’s making a reassuring wave of her hand.

“Relax. You won’t. That kid’s safer than Fort Knox right now. I don’t care what you’re packing, it’s definitely not going to be long enough to do any harm to the baby.”

Ian chokes again, this time his face flushing.

Mickey follows suit. He’s had quite enough of other people talking about Ian’s dick. But mischief overrides the brief embarrassment. “Nine inches,” Mickey supplies, waiting for Katie to catch on.

“Wow, really?” Katie looks impressed when Mickey nods. “Yeah, you’re still good. Trust me. That baby’s fine.” She gives Mickey and interested look and crosses her arms over her chest. “You sure he’s not my type?” Katie asks with a friendly lilt to her tone.

Mickey grabs the belly that he’s been denying exists and gives Katie a pointed glare. “Fucking positive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no one is figuring out the gender until the kid is born. :-)  
> I hope you liked it. Let me know.  
> There are a lot of hurdles yet, angst is coming back but next chapter is when some of the family get to find out. That should be...fun.


	9. Ours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really feel like putting too much in about the other characters in Shameless but I think it is necessary. So I hope you don't mind my depiction of Fiona and Mandy.

The knock at the door catches Ian by surprise.

He figures Mickey must have forgotten his key but when he checks the time he thinks it’s probably too early for him to be back from the store already. Pulling a concerned face, he makes his way to the door. It’s stupid but concern starts to simmer in the back of his brain. He knew when Mickey said he was heading to the store to restock their fridge that the other man was needing some time alone after spending the last two weeks doing nothing together. Now he’s worried that something happened because he’s been gone for less than ten minutes and his heart thuds a little faster. Jumping up, he yanks the door open. “Mick what the…” his words dwindle away as he focuses on who is actually at the door. “Fiona?”

“Hey!” Fiona’s smile widens and the door opens fully and Ian comes into view. She’s bundled up and one gloved hand holds firmly to Liam’s mittened one.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” Backing up, Ian’s brows pinch together and he stands there dumbly.

Voice edging on hopeful enthusiasm, Fiona gives a grin. “Can we come in?”

“Uhh, yeah. Of course.” Ian moves to the side, letting his siblings file in before closing the door. “What are you doing here?” he repeats.

“Well we were in the area and I haven’t heard from you for a while, so I figured we would pop in.”

“You were in the area?” Ian questions like he didn’t hear right. Generally, moving 90 miles away practically eliminated pop in surprise visits, things that never go well for them.

“Well, yeah,” Fiona starts, tugging off her gloves and then unlooping her scarf from her neck. She does that same for Liam, giving his back a gentle shove so he heads in Ian’s direction. “Go say hello to your brother.”

“Hi, Ian!” Liam wraps his arms around Ian’s legs with the type of enthusiasm only a kid of his age could muster.

“Hey, Liam.” Ian smiles and crouched down so he can hug the little boy, kissing him on top of his head. “I’ve got some new video games over there if you want to check ‘em out.” He waits for Liam’s excited nod before pointing towards the television. “Cool, come here kiddo.” It takes him only a minute to set the system up for his youngest brother, keeping Liam distracted enough so that he can talk to Fiona. He smiles at Liam, “have fun,” and goes back to Fiona. “So, you just happened to be in Milwaukee?” He doesn’t believe her. Fiona’s strong point has never been telling lies to her siblings. Ian can see through her every single time.

“Yeah,” Fiona tries again, but her voice wavers enough; she doesn’t even believe what she’s saying.

“Uhh huh,” Ian says slowly. “What possible reason would you have to be in Milwaukee?”

Fiona makes a great show of fighting with the emotions washing over her face before her shoulders fall. “Okay. Fine,” she says in surrender. “I cashed in a favor and borrowed a car. I know you said you were fine when we spoke but…you seemed _off_. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That you’re taking your meds.” She shrugs and flops down in the chair beside the kitchen table.

“You’re unbelievable.” Ian shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to respond to his sister. He thinks maybe he’s just as bad as lying to his siblings as she is. Because, truthfully, he hasn’t been entirely honest with her. He has been lying, and even though he wants to be mad at her for not believing him, that would be hypocritical. Ian’s frustration over his siblings constantly trying to doctor him always simmers under the surface, it’s lit but it isn’t fanning any larger. “You came all this way to make sure I’m taking my meds? Christ Fiona, we’ve – ”

“Been through this, I know. But…” Fiona puts up her hands in defense. “I’m sorry Ian. I just wanted to see you for myself. I…I don’t fucking know…I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay. I barely get to see you, and that’s okay as long as you’re happy and healthy. But I had a weird feeling about everything.” She goes silent, eyes avoiding Ian’s and she rubs a hand over her face, letting it slowly slide down her chin. “Ian…I’ve seen Monica be _good_ for a long time and – ”

“Fuck off Fiona.” This time, the fire does flare up inside Ian. “I’m not Monica.” He turns his back to his sister, bracing both hands on the sink. “Monica never accepted treatment; I have. It…it took me a long time but I’m good, Fi.” Fingers twitching to curl into the steel of the sink, Ian lets out a deep breath. “I’m good. Okay? So while I appreciate all your sisterly concern, I need you – for once in your life – to trust me.”

“I _do_ trust you Ian. I just don’t…I don’t know what’s going on with you. You’ve barely called all month and when we talk, you’re different.” She bites at a cuticle on her middle fingers and sighs. “So, you’re okay?”

Turning to finally look at her, Ian huffs. “Yeah, Fi. I’m good.” He knows he actually is, which he’s pretty proud about. The stress he’s been under has been different than prior stresses in his life but he’s been taking it apart piece by piece until he and Mickey figure out how to manage it. They’ve been doing that, they’re okay for now. He’s not going to tell Fiona that he’s afraid he’ll break, that things will become too much and come crashing in on him. That fear is there and it’s real. But there are other things he has to tell her. “Look Fi, I know I’ve been distant –” but he’s cut off before he gets to the heavy part.

“It’s okay.” Fiona stands up, coming to stand near her brother. “God, I’m sorry I’m so stupid. I should have trusted you. Given you your space. If you say you’re good, then you’re good.” Her words stop abruptly and she pulls Ian into a hug, arms squeezing him. “Christ, but it’s good to see you.”

The hug catches Ian off guard and he stumbles back, letting out a surprised laugh and slowly moving to return the hug. He holds onto his sister, remembering that underneath her strong front, she’s so tiny in his arms. The gesture floods him with how much he does miss his family, the good parts about it. He shouldn’t have kept Fiona in the dark for as long as he has. “It’s good to see you too. But, I need to tell you something.”

“No, you don’t need to explain anything.” Fiona keeps hugging him. “It’s fine.” She pulls away and smiles at him. “Maybe I just needed to come see you because I missed you. It’s hard getting out here in the winter. Too much going on with the other kids in school and work. But I guess we should just try a little harder, right?” She catches the fact that Ian’s smile isn’t matching the look in his eyes. “What?”

“Listen, Fiona…Mickey…he’s –”

Fiona’s smile morphs instantly, a frown taking its place. “Oh my god, did something happen to Mickey? You two okay?” She keeps rattling off questions and accusations, never giving Ian a chance to get a word in.

What does cut her off is Mickey shoving the door open loudly with his hip and coming through the entranceway backwards. Mickey’s words chatter with cold as he grumbles, “shit, Ian. It’s cold as balls out. Remind me why I thought it would be a good idea to walk?” He drops the plastic bags by his feet and shucks off his coat. “It’s hot as hell in this apartment though,” he adds, tugging his hoodie over his head. The movement takes Mickey’s shirt up with the hoodie, exposing the unmistakable swell of a pregnant belly. He yanks the shirt back down but not before Fiona’s eyes get a clear look at it.

Fiona gasps in surprise, the noise echoing through the apartment. “You’re pregnant?” Her voice is heavy with disbelief, and she covers her mouth when it comes out louder than intended.

Mickey jumps at the sound of an unexpected voice and whips around to face its source. “Shit,” he breathes out, head making a drawn out roll and coming to a stop so he can look at both Ian and Fiona.

“You’re damn right ‘shit’.” Fiona says, looking at her brother. “What the fuck, Ian?”

Ian sighs. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, Fi.”

They stand like that, frozen. Only the sounds of Liam’s video game fill the awkwardness until Fiona clears her throat. Her mouth gapes while she tries to figure out a place to start. “How long?”

Mickey answers, “Eighteen weeks.” He licks his lips then drags his teeth over the bottom one.

Ian watches his boyfriend’s eyes dance around the room. He can read his body language clearer than anything else in the world. Mickey’s not moving but he’s squirming inside. The shorter man is trying to keep a strong front despite the fact that he’s uncomfortable under Fiona’s stare. Technically, Lip knows about the pregnancy but Mickey doesn’t know that part; in his eyes, Fiona is the first person they’ve shared the news with. It needed to be done but having it thrown out in the open probably wasn’t the most graceful plan. “Fi…”

Fiona turns to her brother, eyes wide. “You’re having a baby?”

“Uhh, I…” It’s a difficult question to answer. Ian hopes shrugging and pursing his lips in confusion will be enough of an answer for her.

Mickey helps by adding, “I’m not aborting it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He juts his chin up defensively, shifting his weight to lean a fraction closer to Fiona.

Fiona looks like she wants to cry, her eyes sadden when she meets both of their gazes. “Oh my god, Ian. Seriously? You….shit. You really think that’s a great idea?”

“Fuck off Fiona,” Mickey snaps and Ian loves him for it. Mickey effortlessly slides into the person Ian knows him to be, one strong enough to deflect Fiona’s judgement. “You know what? It’s not your fucking decision. And as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s not your kid, Fiona, and Ian isn’t either. He and I are perfectly capable of knowing what’s a _good idea_.” Mickey crosses his arms over his chest and steps so that he can stand beside Ian.

“Hell,” Fiona huffs. “Really? You think you know what you’re doing?”

“You think _you_ do,” Ian challenges. In her one accusation, Ian remembers why he needed to detract himself from his family. In his gut, he knows Fiona will eventually support them but the mountains they’ll need to climb in order to get to that point don’t seem worth it right now. “I’m not a child anymore, Fiona. I know that’s hard for you to get through your skull but I’m finally able to live my life. Actually _live_. But you can’t keep waltzing in and out of our lives like you know better. Because you sure as hell don’t. He does,” Ian says, with a placement of his hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “You don’t.”

“Ian, I…I just want what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, you say that a lot.” Ian swallows and shakes his head sadly. Sighing, he shuffles over to a drawer beside the refrigerator and pulls it open. He doesn’t have to search; the ultrasound printout he’s looking for is directly on top. He holds it between two fingers and flicks them towards Fiona so she can see it clearly. “It’s not something we were planning on but it happened. You wanna say we should kill _that_ , then go ahead.” He watches Fiona’s eyes soak in the image of the baby. “But if you say that, then you’re not really worried about me. Because killing _that_ would kill part of me.”

Fiona brings her hands together and presses them over her nose and mouth. “Fuck.” Her words are soaked with tears. “That’s a fucking baby.”

“We know,” Mickey says.

“Fuck,” Fiona repeats. The muscles of her throat move as she swallows and sucks in her lips. “Fuck,” she lets out one more time before launching herself at Mickey, hugging him to her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She keeps hugging him despite the fact that he’s standing stock still. “I’m just worried about you.” The way she says it gets across that the word “you” means Mickey and Ian as a couple. “I’m just worried. If anything happened…if….” She stops talking, hugging Mickey and squeezing her eyes closed.

Mickey gives Ian a helpless look before yielding to the hug, wrapping his arms around Fiona and thumping his palms on her shoulder blades reassuringly. “I’m worried too,” he whispers.

“Me too,” Ian adds. “We’re not delusional, Fiona. We’re thinking things through. We’ve got as far as having the actual baby. We’re not being impulsive about deciding if we can raise it or not.” Ian’s words huff out of him when Fiona cuts off her hug with Mickey so she can turn it on her brother. “I should have told you sooner, that’s true. But it’s not your life. You don’t get to make our decisions. And if you’re going to judge them, then don’t find yourself ‘in the area’ anytime soon.” Ian knows he’s being harsh but it needs to be said.

Pulling back, Ian holds her brother at arm’s length. “I’m sorry. Can you accept that?”

She looks earnest, which makes it impossible for Ian to say no to her. He accepts the apology with a questions. “Do you and Liam want to stay for dinner? It’s just spaghetti.”

“That okay?” Fiona asks Mickey.

“Fuck if I care,” Mickey huffs, scratching at the back of his head. He softens enough to add. “We’ve got more than enough.”

“Then yeah. We’ll stay for dinner.” She smiles with a nod. “As long as you’re not going to drop any other bombs on me. Like…it’s not twins, right?”

“Oh, god no.” Ian says, letting himself laugh. “One’s more than enough to deal with.”

***

Work is something Mickey needs right now. Taking weeks off was good for him and Ian, and according to his doctor, it was good for the alien growing inside of him as well. But he’s ready to go back to doing something to help support them.

He’s thankful for the chilly weather because it allows him to exist in bulky layers. His pregnancy isn’t obvious and no one gives him a sideways glance when a pregnant electrician comes to their door. Putting himself in his client’s shoes, he imagines he would fall victim to being surprised that a pregnancy showing up at the door. Now that he’s the pregnant person, he thinks it’s ridiculous. He’s absolutely capable of doing his job and doing it well. But he’s not foolish enough to think he won’t encounter judgement; that’s a reality he’s been saddled with his entire life.

The day is an easy one, a good way to ween himself back into a work schedule. There is a tug in his gut and he knows it’s because he misses Ian. It’s always there but lately he finds it pulling at him more and more. When he’s alone like this, he can fight through the discomfort he feels at the realization that he’s not himself. The alien he’s harboring is making him _different_. It’s hormones and he fucking knows it but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

After the showdown with Fiona, he can’t avoid it. He felt off kilter. Had Fiona not come around to his and Ian’s decision, he felt his fists clenching enough to know that he’d hit her. He didn’t care that she’s Ian’s sister. Emotions were like a tidal wave inside of him and he was able to control them but he can’t do it for much longer.

Really, he just wants to have a fit about it because having a kid growing inside of him is fucking weird. Every morning he looks at his belly and sees that it’s bigger and he knows the route cause. It’s surreal and maybe he gets why Fiona was so concerned. Hell, he’s a semi-reformed thug who grew up in an abusive homophobic household having a kid with a man with a history of psychotic episodes and mental breakdowns. On paper is sounds insane. What the hell is he thinking?

He’s no good.

Those thoughts are deep seated. He’s blaming hormones for why they’re resurfacing after having gotten them under control.

Self-loathing swims to the surface and he’s a teenager again, torn between hating himself and wishing he didn’t have to. Ian’s being… _amazing_. He’s not missing a beat. Most importantly, he’s himself.

But Mickey?

What is he?

He doesn’t know anymore. The pregnancy makes his brain foggy and he can’t remember that he’s been amazing too. Way stronger than he could have been a few years ago. Being pregnant is physically changing him but he’s still _him_. He’s strong enough to take care of himself and Ian.

Right now, however, he can’t be any of those things.

He held it together all day but now that works done and he’s sheltered in the safety of his car, he feels scattered.

There are things he needs to do and sometimes he needs to remind himself that more people than just Ian have faith in him.

Fishing out his cellphone, he dials a number without needing help from his eyes. The call connects after three rings, and his sister’s voice rings in his ear.

_“Hey, dickbreath. What’s up?”_

Mickey laughs at his sister’s choice of words. It’s her fallback name for him; she’s long found it amusing since her brother came out as gay. Mickey’s finger and thumb on the hand not holding the cellphone land on his temples and he laughs again. “Hi Mandy.” There is no teasing nickname in return, just Mandy, because that’s who he needs right now. His sister.

Picking up on that immediately, Mandy’s demeanor changes. “ _Mickey? What’s going on? Are you okay?_ ”

“Yeah. No, I’m good. I…shit Mandy.” He pauses, not sure where to go with the conversation. “I just needed to talk to you.”

“ _You sound like shit, Mick._ ”

“Feel like it too.” His sigh reaches the receiver and echoes through the phone call. He lets the next two words shoot out of his mouth like they’re a bullet. “I’m pregnant.” Mandy’s silence is expected but it goes on longer than Mickey thought. “Mands?”

“ _Yeah. Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that._ ”

“Me either.”

_“What are you and Ian going to do about it?”_

“I’m going to have it.” Mickey’s hand moves to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Shit, Mandy. It’s a fucking kid and…it’s Ian’s kid. And it’s inside me.”

Mandy snorts. “ _Well I hope Ian’s fucking kid would be inside of you instead of someone else._ ”

“You know what I fucking mean.”

“ _Yeah, I know_.”  Mandy pauses, putting joking aside. “ _You’re okay though, right? Everything’s okay?”_

“I’m fucking fat,” Mickey snorts but it wasn’t what he meant to say. I slipped out and he hates it. “I’m healthy if that’s wat you’re asking. Kid’s growing. I’m growing. But…I…shit, Mandy. I just…what the hell am I doing?”

There is silence for a beat. “ _I don’t know what you mean.”_

“I mean…what am I doing? Am I an idiot having this kid? Because Fiona sure thinks I am – ”

“ _Fiona’s a shit._ ” Mandy snorts. “ _Wait…you told Fiona before you told your fucking sister.”_ With a sound of distaste she spits out, “ _fuck you.”_

“Come on, Mandy. It wasn’t like that. She just kind of ambushed us.” He swallows. “I wanted to tell you. I did. I just didn’t know what we were doing. But now I do. And…so I’m telling you. Because I need you to tell me that I can do this. That is isn’t a mistake. Ian thinks I can but I need you to tell me too. Shit.” He cuts himself off as the hormones he’s been fighting finally win. His eyes are wet and when he inhales his lungs shudder. “Shit.”

“ _You little shit. Are you really stupid enough to think that you can’t? Have you seen the things you’ve done? Yeah, a lot of them were idiotic but the important ones…those were down right badass. If anyone can handle being pregnant while still being a badass. It’s definitely you.”_

Mickey laughs, making the cry that was about to leave his mouth come out distorted. He sniffs, and stays quite to take a moment to compose himself. His mind is quiet. Leave it to his sister to make him feel ridiculous for worrying. He’s about to tell her so when he feels a fluttering in his gut. He brushes it off as nothing but it’s distinctly different than anything he’s felt before. It’s like a bubbling against his insides, and his heart skips a beat, making him dizzy. Katie’s words come back to him and he knows that what he’s feeling is the baby moving. The kid must be riding the rush of adrenaline that just shot through Mickey, because the flutters are more insistent. “Holy shit!”

“ _What?”_ Mandy’s voice is tinged with panic.

“It moved.”

“ _What moved?”_

“The kid. It…it just moved. I mean…it’s been moving but that’s the first time I’ve felt it move. And it’s….it’s…” Mickey can’t find a word, he just makes a dumb swallowing noise.

“ _See, even your fucking kid knows you can handle this.”_

Mickey doesn’t care if his sister is right or not. He’s believing her. The kid moves again and Mickey stretches back in the car’s seat to lengthen his body. Having another person moving inside of him will probably have his brain reeling but right now he lets himself smile because Mandy’s right. He’s not fucking this up. The kid is moving and it’s a big “fuck you” to Fiona’s concerns. The kids letting people know that it’s healthy and Mickey didn’t mess it up.

“ _I hope that kid looks like Ian_ ,” Mandy says with sisterly teasing.

Laughing on the end of a snort, Mickey doesn’t give her the pleasure of a response. He lets himself think that maybe what Mandy hopes wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your amazing comments. They make me so happy.  
> Like I said, this story is outlined but I've been making it longer than I originally planned because I am having fun writing this. So if people have suggestions to something you might want to see in the story, please feel free to comment.  
> XOXO


	10. Ways to Go

Mickey knows Ian’s standing outside their apartment, he can feel the fact thrumming in his bones; he has a hunch that Ian’s somewhere hovering. Reluctantly abandoning his pizza, Mickey pushes away from the table and goes to the door. Stepping outside without a coat, the cold immediately prickles his skin. He wraps his arms around his chest, looks left and immediately finds Ian. The redhead is leaning against the wall like he’s holding it up, his arms crossed and a cigarette tucked between two fingers.

The reason why Ian’s out there is no secret. It makes Mickey snort softly and walk over to his partner. He snags the cigarette with one hand and takes a single puff, placing it back in Ian’s possession before a word ekes out. He knows he’s expected to kick the whole smoking thing and he will. But going cold turkey isn’t working for him right now so he gets through his days stealing a drag from one of Ian’s cigarettes every day.

Thankfully Ian doesn’t fight him, and maybe it’s because he gets it. Ian’s trying to be nice and cut down on his own smoking, even making sure to smoke outside of their apartment and away from Mickey, but it isn’t the same as hands down quitting. And it’s definitely not the same as quitting because of an alien growing inside of you. Mostly, Mickey thought he wouldn’t care about those things. He’s pretty sure his mother smoked while she was pregnant with all his siblings but the more he thinks about it he realizes that maybe that’s not a good argument. And now that he knows things and that Dr. Fretto told him things, he can’t help but care. So, he’s _mostly_ given up smoking.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” Mickey says.

Wish a sheepish shrug, Ian brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales. “Sorry. I just didn’t wanna smoke around _you_.” He makes an all-encompassing gesture with one hand to indicate every part of Mickey.

“Well _I_ don’t want you freezing your ass off out here.”

Ian snorts in amusement. “Says the idiot who’s standing next to me without a coat.”

Mickey gives him a quick flick of his middle finger and curls his lip. When the expression fades away, he hugs himself tighter, realizing he really is an idiot for not taking the two seconds to put a coat on. “You just get back?”

“Yeah. I lost track of time. I was hoping to get most of my orders out by the weekend but it’s gonna be impossible on my own.” Sighing, he lets his head fall back as he blows an exhale of smoke towards the sky. “I’ve been thinking about taking someone else on. You know, to help with everything.”

“You’ve been thinking that?” It’s a surprise to Mikey. While it’s not totally out of left field and it seems like a normal progression of events, Ian hasn’t uttered a word about it till now. Mickey turns towards him and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, just thinking. Nothing major.” He takes a final drag from the cigarette and stubs it out on the wall. When he exhales, he adds, “I dunno. Just a stupid thought.”

For the life of him, Mickey can’t figure out why he reacts the way he does. It happens so quickly that his brain suffers whiplash. He moves, caging Ian against the wall and reaching up to yank him closer by fisting his jacket and pulling. Their lips crash together suddenly, Ian’s eyes large from surprise while Mickey’s slide closed.  The shock wears off and their kiss becomes a two sided affair. Mickey’s tongue swipes at the taste of cigarettes and swallows it down until he gets at the underlying layer of pure Ian. The kiss makes more sense then because Mickey realizes two things. One is that Ian thinks his idea is stupid, which it isn’t. But more importantly, the second thing is that Ian’s self-advocating for help. Having his own business has been good for Ian, but he knowing when he needs to sit down and think about expanding it speaks volumes. The thought makes pride swell up in Mickey and swirl to the surface where it escapes in the form of a kiss. Need for an actual intake of oxygen makes him pull away, licking his upper lip like the action’s a sin. His fist is still curled around Ian’s jacket, and he straightens his arm to keep them a breadth apart.

“What was that for?” Ian’s eyes are still wide open and he pulls upright so he can look Mickey in the eye. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Because.” Mickey lets that word suffice as an answer and shoves Ian a bit with his shoulder. “Hiring someone else isn’t stupid; we’ll talk about that later. What’s stupid is standing out here when I have a fucking hot pizza inside.” Pulling Ian’s jacket, he forces the other man to follow him into the apartment. The door opens and the warmth is instantly welcoming. Once they’re both inside, he releases his hold on Ian and goes back to his pizza without any fanfare. Ian joins him at the table, snagging his own slide from the box Mickey left on the counter beside their stove. It's a feeling more than a visual observation that alerts Mickey to the fact that Ian’s staring at him. “What?” He asks accusatorily through a mouthful of mostly chewed pizza.

“Nothing. Just… _you_.” Ian shrugs and cuts himself off from saying anything more by filling his mouth with pizza instead of words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ian wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and swallows. “Nothing. Really. I’m just happy you don’t think it’s stupid that I want to expand my business. I know we weren’t sure how well things would go but, shit Mickey, they’re going great. I totally underestimated the demand for handmade furniture over factory cookie cutter pieces.”

Mickey snorts. “You’re surprised? We’ve both made some crappy decisions and messed up a lot but when he do something, we’re damn good at it.” His mind wanders for a moment as he takes another bite of pizza. It flutters over uncomfortable parts of their past that are bedded down safely but still there. “Hell, you were pretty good at shaking your ass for a living.”

The comment results in a choking noise from Ian but he morphs it into a laugh. “What’s that got to do with building furniture?”

“Just saying you were good at it. I guess you’re applying that type of _drive_ and _determination_ to this job.” Mickey laughs at the pinched brow expression his boyfriend is giving him. “At least I appreciate your _drive_.”

“I bet you do.” Ian’s expression softens and his voice turns huskier. “That all you appreciate?”

“Maybe.” Mickey lets Ian wait for more, grabs another slice of pizza and takes two large bites. “I appreciate your dick, that’s for sure.” He catches himself, realizing he’s being playful when what he really intended to do was be serious about the fact that Ian’s talking to him about the fact that he’s at a crossroads in his adventure in business ownership. “Your dick isn’t going to help you in this case, though. I mean…It better fucking not.”

Ian jumps on the shift in tone and shakes his head slowly. “Never,” he whispers. “That’s hands on property belonging to you.” He stands up to get himself a can of soda from the refrigerator. “You think we could swing it, though? Hiring someone to help out would be a financial strain for a few weeks until I can actual get into the routine of a faster production rate.”

Mickey’s gut reaction is to say “of course” but life has changed enough over that past weeks that he isn’t so sure. “I could take a few more jobs. Maybe work on weekends or something.”

“Mick.” Ian drags the name out like Mickey’s suggestion hurts him, and maybe it does on some level. His eyes flash with defeat and he falls back to his chair with a heavy plop. “I don’t want you doing that. You know, because of…” His words drop off.

Mickey knows he means the baby but for some reason they both get hung up on staying the word. The kid is real, saying the noun isn’t going to make it more or less so. Still, the concept is so new that it hasn’t gotten past the awkward ill-fitting stage. They can make do with gestures and cut-off insinuating sentences. “I’m fine. I can handle a little extra work for the next few weeks. I think it’s a good idea…you hiring someone.”

Ian doesn’t push the issue. “Yeah, it probably is for more than one reason. And when you have the, _you know_ , I can leave a lot of the work to them.” He hesitates. “So that things don’t fall behind and we still make enough money to get by on.”

Nodding, Mickey hums. He picks at the remains of pizza crust and dances around what Ian’s saying. His brain knows that he’s going to have to wean himself off of work as the kid’s due date approaches but he’s hard wired to buck against that idea. It’s juvenile at best but his tendency to fight against what other’s tell him to do is deep-rooted. He’s got to come around to it on his own, and maybe Katie’s helping him get there but he’s a long way off. Pushing his plate away and sitting back in his chair with a full stomach, he changes the subject. “So, I’m supposed to see Katie again. Something about a 20 week appointment. She seemed gung-ho about the fact that I make sure I get my ass into – ” He stops abruptly with a sharp intake of air.

“What?” Ian asks.

“The kids moving…” he shifts in his seat, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have eaten so much because his belly feels too full and the new sliding sensation of the kid growing inside of him makes him scrunch the right side of his face “…a lot.”

Letting the pizza drop from his hands to the plate, Ian stares at the other man. “You can feel it?”

“Yeah. It started a few days ago. It’s fucking weird. Like…one minute I think I’m alone and then I remember…I’m not. Not really. It shocks me.” He looks up to meet Ian’s eyes and sees them soften into something resembling sentimentality. “Oh no, don’t do that.” Mickey stands up, turning his back to Ian as he throws his scraps in the garbage. “Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes you are. You’re getting that _look_. The one you get when you think I did something sweet or cute and…that’s bull shit. The kid’s moving. I didn’t do that.” He crosses his arms loosely around him. “It just happens.” The palm of his right hand falls down and lands on the swell in his middle where the fingers move on their own accord to trace a circle over where he felt movement.

“Uhh-huh,” Ian says, blowing right though Mickey’s comments and calling bullshit on the whole façade. “Then why are you always touching your stomach?” Ian’s eyes land on Mickey’s belly.

Following the gaze, Mickey finds that he _is_ touching his stomach and jerks his hand away like he’s burned himself. “Am not.”

“Are too.” Ian stands up, taking a few steps towards Mickey. “It’s weird, I get that. But isn’t it at least a little cool?”

Mickey doesn’t know what to say to that. His head’s swimming because he knows that maybe it would be “a little cool” if he wasn’t trapped in a looping battle over how out of his element he feels. “No. It’s fucking weird because it’s growing inside of me and making me not smoke and not drink and….fuck no. Okay? It’s weird.” His volume raises but it’s not from anger. He’s frustrated but definitely not angry at Ian. He feels like he’s ricocheting and he’s going to graze one of Ian’s arteries on accident so he turns away from his boyfriend and pulls open the freezer door with more force than necessary. Fishing out a half-eaten carton of ice cream, he goes to the sink to grab a clean spoon from the drying rack. Mickey flips the lid off and leaves it on the counter before taking his new snack over to the futon that serves as their couch.

Ian draws a hand over his chin and narrows one eye at the other man. “You’re aware you ate half the pizza pie.”

“So?”

“So, ice cream, huh?” A smirk starts to curl the corners of Ian’s lips. “Oh, come on Mick, you don’t see it? Ice cream? You’re going to be that stereotype of a pregnant person?”

The question sparks a glare from Mickey. “You say anything and I’ll shove this spoon in your eye.” Mickey holds up the utensil as a show of force.

His alien is going to be the death of him.

***

Ian’s fidgeting.

It’s mostly anxiety and he feels his heart thumping away in his chest because he has no idea what his therapist is going to make of the fact that he and Mickey are deciding to have a kid. True, it’s not really her decision to make but Ian’s not sure what she’s going to unearth in him.

It makes him feel like he’s seasick.

He’s arrived at the doctor early, which isn’t his usual habit but his mind has been whirling around today’s appointment and he somehow found himself sitting in the waiting room twenty minutes early. He pulls out his phone as a distraction. His gut reaction is to text Mickey, so he does. “ _Hey, today I fucking hate therapy. Remind me that I shouldn’t?”_ Once the text is sent, his fingers fiddle with the message screen, staring a hole into it.

Mickey’s response is immediate. “ _You shouldn’t hate therapy. It helps put you back together again. I like you together._ ” As soon as it comes through, it’s followed by another. “ _I’ll suck your dick and make you fall apart later.”_ Then after that comes, “ _Please go to therapy so you can stay the persistent fucker that I love.”_

Ian laughs at the last response. He shoots back, “ _Dick._ _I’ll make you fall apart. Let’s see how well you hold it together when I’m fucking you senseless._ ” After a pause he sends. “ _I love you too._ ”

“ _Text me to let me know you’ve survived.”_ There is an emoji of a middle finger after Mickey’s request.

Ian laughs and checks the time. He’s still got fifteen minutes. Guilt over not talking to Lip in the last two weeks eats away at him and he figures he might as well make amends for that. His brother tried calling him twice but he placated him with a quick text explaining that he’s fine but busy. Lip didn’t push but he really deserves more than that. They used to be so close, before shit hit fans and splattered them in different worlds. He sends, “ _Hey, sorry I haven’t called. Work is busy and so are things with Mickey. I’m sure Fiona told you. We’re having the baby.”_

It’s almost ten minutes before Ian’s phone pings back with a response from Lip. “ _Busy here too. Yeah. She told me. You good?_ ”

“ _For now_ ,” Ian responds.

The message is barely out there when Lip asks, “ _Mickey good?_ ”

“ _For now_ ,” Ian repeats and sends another message, “ _I’m waiting for my therapy appointment now. Gotta talk about some shit.”_ Once he sends the text, he finds himself typing another. “ _The baby started moving the other day.”_

 _“Shit got real.”_ Lip replies.

And it really fucking did. Ian’s so damn confused about that. It makes him feel like he’s terrified and happy at the same time. Right now, life is amazing. The little life he and Mickey created is fucking amazing. And while his heart speeds up as his fight of flight mechanism kicks in, he wants to wrap himself around Mickey and their kid and just soak it in. Swallowing, he sends his brother a response. _“Yeah. Real. And I think it’s got Mickey spooked. I know it’s got me all messed up.”_

“ _You’re gonna be okay._ ” Lip texts back. It’s just four words without intonation but they come off confident enough the Ian believes them. “ _If you feel like you’re not, call me. Or Fiona. Or anyone. We’ve got your back._ ”

Ian’s eyes skim the text. It settles his heart just enough. He hears Dr. Pollack’s patient leaving the room and knows he should wrap things up. “ _Gotta go talk to the doc. I’ll keep you posted._ ” He pockets his phone just in time for his therapist to step out with a smile and motion him into her office.

“Ian, hello.”

“Umm, hi,” Ian feels himself crouching, shrinking down as he makes his way to a couch in the cozy office. On normal days, he wouldn’t try to be small, but today he feels off. It’s not because of his meds; it’s a normal low day that everyone has. He knows that. Usually, he doesn’t mind going to therapy. It helps even when it leaves him angry. Usually that means Dr. Pollack hit a nerve that needed to be hit and he’s all the better for it.

Today he’s feeling vulnerable.

“So, how are you?” Dr. Pollack asks, taking a seat across form Ian and folding her hands on her lap. She doesn’t look like she expects anything as she waits through the silence.

Silence is scary to Ian because he didn’t grow up with much of it. Silence usually meant something was wrong. And now Ian can’t find the words to fill it so the silence lays between them like a continent that he stares across hoping he can get to the other side.

After too long, Dr. Pollack tries again to coax words out of her patient. “Ian?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I just….” Ian’s eyes dart away from the doctor and settle on the dry skin building on his hands from working with them too often.

“Let’s start with what’s been going on since we’ve last spoke,” She nods at Ian and recrosses her legs in the other direction.

“Uhh, yeah. A lot.” Ian knots his hands together and licks his lips. There is more silence before he fills it with small talk that doesn’t help his therapist assess anything. He talks about work and how it's going well enough to hire another person. When he’s run out of trivial things to report, he licks his lips. His throat has gone dry but he manages to wring out, “Mickey’s pregnant.”

For her part, Dr. Pollack doesn’t react more than enough to show she’s heard him and wants him to continue.

“Yeah, so, he’s pregnant. We’re pregnant. Shit that sounds weird. That’s not really totally true, right? I mean, like…he’s pregnant with my kid and we’re _doing this_. We’re having the kid. And it’s so fucking weird. Because…I mean…It’s _me_. And it’s Mickey. And it’s us. And I’ve had a shitty childhood. He’s had a shittier one. What the hell are we doing? You know, like ….We’re having the kid, that’s decided. We can’t kill it. It didn’t ask for that. And it’s part of us too. So…Mickey’s having it. And then I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. And I feel so trapped in my own head because I…I really want to be happy about it but Mickey and I keep side stepping each other like we’re afraid to make the other person topple. What the fuck is that? That isn’t us. Shit.” The ramble ends with Ian carding fingers though his hair and staring at the ceiling. He’s pretty sure what he just spewed makes little sense.

“Can we sort through that?” Dr. Pollack asks.

Ian’s voice cracks enough to let on that he has nerves exposed reading for pounding. “Which part?”

Wetting her lips, Dr. Pollack tries to sort Ian’s rant and starts with, “How long have you known about this?”

“Umm, almost seven weeks. But we didn’t find out until Mickey was already practically thirteen weeks pregnant.”

“Ian, we’ve been working together for a long time now. I’d like to say that you’ve given me a pretty good glimpse of who you are, how you grew up, even insight to who Mickey is. But I have to ask…What do you mean when you said that having a baby is weird because it is part of you and Mickey?”

The question leaves Ian fishing for the words that can make sense of his answer. In his head it makes sense but when he thinks of the words he finds himself lost. Swallowing he gives it a try. “Sometimes I think maybe good things don’t happen to me. Or…only a certain amount do. And right now, I’m _good_. Mickey and I are _good_. And I wonder if I'm pushing my luck by letting myself want this kid. Because I _really_ want to want it. And I’m terrified to want it. Like…I’ll curse it or something. ‘Cause, Mickey keeps thinking he’ll fuck it up but he won’t. He never could. But I could. I’ve fucked up a lot because of who I am. I don’t want fucking up my relationship with Mickey or fucking up a kid to be on my conscience too.” This time his voice cracks open because it’s the first time he’s been able to say that out loud. He’s been shielding himself from it by pushing those thoughts away. But what’s more is that he’s been shielding Mickey from it. Mickey’s a strong person but Ian doesn’t want to saddle him with more shit than he needs to. Here, however, in Dr. Pollacks office, he’s able to let all the walls down and let truth gush out. “Shit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and feels a tear squeeze out.

Dr. Pollack notices, gets to her feet, and places the tissue box from her desk on the couch beside Ian. Ian takes one and pushes at his eyes so hard it’s as if he’s trying to soak up the tears before they come. “Can I ask you why you’re not being yourselves, as you stated earlier?”

“Because!” Ian yells it. Suddenly he’s angry that she’s making him drag things he’s been hiding to the surface. It’s a tug of war in his head and he bites his lower lip. “Because what if who we are right now is too much to handle on top of an unplanned pregnancy?”

“You know you two aren’t the first ones to find yourselves in this situation? I know it’s tough, but hiding how you two are feeling isn’t going to help either of you in the long run. I don’t know Mickey personally but I know enough about him to believe he wouldn’t run away from this. He stayed with you through trying times before, maybe even more trying than this moment.”

“Yeah. He did. And what did I fucking do? I withdrew. I mean, I fucking came back but…I don’t ever want to do that to him again. I don’t want to do that to _me_ again.” Ian sniffs, using a new tissue to dry a fresh wave of tears. He’s falling apart, crying like he hasn’t in a long, long, _long_ time.

“You’re different now. I’ve seen that change. You’re more in tune with who you are.” Dr. Pollack pauses and shifts gears. “Remember when we talked about managing stressors?”

“Yeah.”

“Does hiding these feelings from Mickey leave you feeling more or less stressed?”

“More,” Ian answers instantly.

“So then you know whatever you’re doing isn’t working.” She sighs sympathetically and leans forward, resting both elbows on her knees. “How do you feel when you actually talk to Mickey?”

“Lighter.”

“Then why cut yourself off to the actual emotions you’re having? Why deaden yourself?” The therapist’s eyes soften. “Why beat yourself up when you’ve done nothing wrong?”

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Ian feels like maybe she’s cut his chest open and exposed his heart. “Because I’m scared that if I feel these things, I’m going to look weak. Like I’m not strong enough. And I don’t give a shit what people think about me and Mickey but sometimes…I do. And people thinking about us having a kid like it’s a bad idea has me feeling like it’s a bad idea. And then I can’t tell if I’m losing my mind or not. Like I’ve gone crazy.” He curses under his breath. “I hate wondering if it’s my disorder talking or if it’s normal for a person to feel this torn in two.”

“You’re not crazy, Ian. You know that. And you’re not your disorder.” Dr. Pollack sighs and places her notepad on her desk. “You’re allowed to be happy about having a baby with someone you love. But you’re also allowed to be scared. It’s okay. It’s a scary thing.” Growing more serious, she poses the question at the core of the situation. “Do you want this baby or do you feel obligated to want the baby?”

“I want it,” Ian answers before she’s even done taking. It isn’t obligation that makes him want it but it’s a pull from his gut that makes him want to see that kid grow and give it as good a life as he can. “I don’t know if we’re going to keep the baby but I want to be part of its life. And I think…I think I really want to keep the kid in my life.”

“Okay, you have homework. I need you to go home and tell Mickey that.” Sitting back, the therapist nods at Ian with confidence. “You’re strong enough to do that.” Flipping through her planner, she runs a finger along the dates. “Do you want to come visit me sooner than our bi-monthly appointments?” The way she asks it holds little pressure but there is the hint that she’s hoping her patient says yes.

“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.” Closing his eyes, Ian gets a hold of himself. The past few minutes exhausted him enough to make them feel like hours. He’s scared, sure, but he’s starting to feel terrified about what can happen to him and Mickey if he doesn’t follow the doctor’s orders.

***

  
Ian was right, Mickey realizes. He does touch his stomach a lot. He finds himself doing it often, like right now as they’re making their way to Katie’s clinic so he can shut her up about coming in for a 20 week appointment. Mickey’s driving, because while the Zofran might be helping most of his morning sickness, he finds that he gets pretty sick if he’s not the one controlling the vehicle. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other moving slowly across his belly, right along the curve under his belly button. “This fucking kid…I swear to god I just peed and I need to…”  Before Mickey can finish his retort, he closes his eyes for a moment and winces.  The baby shifts and while it isn’t painful, it is jarring. It’s so sudden and intense that it knocks the wind out of him.

“Baby moved?”

Mickey nods while licking both lips.

Ian’s eyes cloud. “You always look like that when it moves. Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just…different. Shocking. It keeps getting stronger and I never expect it.” He keeps his eyes on the road but feels Ian staring at his middle.

“What does it feel like?”

“Umm…” Mickey presses one hand to his stomach in thought. He pulls the car into the small lot adjacent to Katie’s practice and parks it. The kid moves again and he tries to come up with a way to explain what the strange feeling going on inside of him is like. “It feels like it is rolling, like…like…you know, like a spoon scraping along the inside of a bowl. It kinda feels like that’s happening inside me. Fucking weird, right?”

Ian sighs and his exhale is tinged with sadness. “No. Not really.  That sounds…”  Shrugging, he unclips his seatbelt and twists away from Mickey to face the windshield. “It sounds unbelievable.”

Mickey undoes his own seatbelt and turns to face Ian. “Says you. Who doesn’t have this belly attached to your front. You have abs. I have _this_.” He gestures towards his middle. It’s rounder now and while his stomach was never overly toned, it’s miles away from what it was. Self-consciousness has been creeping in on him and he doesn’t feel like the man Ian’s been in love with.

Skirting the issue, Ian changes the subject and asks, “Ready to go inside?”

Mickey nods. “Yeah.”

They fall into line beside each other, not talking but walking comfortably into the building. It’s the middle of the day so they’re not surprised when they see the receptionist at the front desk. They’re quickly shown to a room after being assured that that Katie is finishing up with a patient in the other room but shouldn’t be longer than ten minutes, she won’t keep them waiting long. It’s a good thing too because Mickey lied in the car. He isn’t ready for the appointment. He feels so nervous that he needs to throw up or pee, or both at the same time, which disgusts him enough to think he might actually throw up.

Mickey had an uneasy feeling that things were going to implode. Things had been going well, but his and Ian’s life had a strange way of flipping in the opposite direction.

Thankfully, Katie barrels through his thoughts like a bull. Her bedside manner sidelines his worry enough that her jibes actually get a laugh out of him. When she measures his middle and comments on how many inches it had grown, the laugh is taken off the table and replaced with a glare.

Medical jargon and boring exam elements out of the way, Dr. Fretto has Mickey stretched out across the exam table with his belly exposed.

“Okay, fun part!” She points the ultrasound wand at Mickey like a weapon. “No complaining from you! This is one of those good parts, the parts I told you about that don’t suck.”

Mickey holds his hands up in surrender as Katie squirts ultrasound gel on his stomach. “I’d hate to see what you'd do with that thing if I fought you on this.”

Narrowing one eye at him, Katie switches on the machine and rolls the transducer through the gel to spread it out more evenly. “That sounds almost like a complaint.”

“No. But I should warn you, Ian’s probably not human because that thing inside me is definitely an alien. It never stops moving and that can’t be normal.” It’s a weak attempt at a joke, but Mickey realizes it comes off flat because his voice wavers with discomfort.

Katie raises an eye at him and gets to work scanning the screen. “Well I don’t think we need to worry about Ian’s species. This baby is definitely a human. And a perfectly normal one at that.” She rolls the wand across the curve of Mickey’s middle, picking up the profile of a very human fetus. “I know you hate that you have a belly, but things are right on the money. Baby is measuring right on schedule. But you’re right, this little one likes to move.”

Ian smiles at the screen revealing the grainy image of their baby. His expression is twitchy, like he’s trying to hide it but can’t. The baby twists on the screen, limbs punching out. “Fucking feisty, huh?” Ian drifts closer to the screen but Mickey grabs him to keep him close. Turning, he gives Mickey a surprised look before a smile warms his face and he strokes his thumb over Mickey’s knuckles. “Kid’s moving more than last time,” Ian reports to Katie in case she didn’t notice.

“Last time I couldn’t feel it.” Mickey wets his lips and blinks at the screen. It’s weird to feel the sensations in his middle and be able to correlate them with the visual on the screen depicting how the baby is moving inside of him. It warms him in a way he isn’t expecting, hitting him so hard he gets dizzy. Katie catches it and stops what she’s doing.

“You okay, handsome?” She sets the transducer down and gives Mickey a moment to breathe.

“Yeah. No. I’m…” Licking his lips he finishes with, “I just need a second. I…” Mickey doesn’t know what he's feeling; his heart trips over itself. “Can you…use that thing again?” He nods towards the ultrasound wand.

A wide smile stretches across Katie’s face as she follows Mickey’s request. The baby is on view again and she takes several screen captures. “That’s the spine. See?” She points to a curve of vertebrae. “Does it look more like a person than an alien now, Mickey?”

Mickey can’t find his voice. The answer is yes but he can’t get the word out. It’s a lot to take in and the emotions are ping-ponging inside of him, stronger than he could have anticipated. He watches the baby move and something tightens in his chest, making him close his eyes to ward off whatever’s been set into motion. He squeezes Ian’s hand tighter and the connection thrums through him, a familiar rhythm that always makes things feel safer. He’s safe here, in this room with the man he loves and a doctor he actually likes. Trying to focus and pull himself together, his breath comes a little quicker and he puffs his exhalations out from his nose. The tears come anyway because their kid is real and it feels right when his emotions towards it seem to scream “family”. He coughs to cover the choking sound of a so; he feels weak. Though he knows Ian will fight him on that belief, he’s completely ashamed of being driven to tears by a 20 week old fetus.

As if sensing his internal conflict, Katie nudges him and brushes things off like she has seen them a million time. “You can cry Mickey. It’s normal. I cried like a baby at my 20 week appointment. I cried even more when I went home and realized that I behaved like a blubbering baby in the middle of my doctor’s office. And I cried again when I stared at the printout from my appointment and realized I grew this baby who somehow found a way to be so perfect. You get a free pass to cry. No one in this room will hold it against you.”

“I’m not fucking crying,” Mikey insist. Except he is and it’s obvious. He has to look away from the screen because it's proving Katie right. There is one perfect arm on display and two perfect legs. Who gave his kid the right to be so perfect? It’s not an alien. It’s a perfect baby and Mickey’s speechless over the fact that he created something perfect. He’s squeezing Ian’s hand harder, having given up on putting too much thought in his obvious need for contact with his partner. “Ian…” He looks up at the other man and doesn’t feel so silly for letting himself cry because Ian’s having a more difficult time. One of Ian’s tears splashes onto Mickey’s face; that does him in. He wipes at their mingled tears with the heel of his hand. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” Ian says in understanding. He takes a deep breath and then lets words spill in time with his tears. “Mick…I want this kid. Our kid. I want it, in some way. I…I want it and I wanna be happy about it because,” he pauses and uses his finger to trace the baby’s spine. “Look at it. It’s part of us, Mick. And I want it. ‘Cause it’s fucking beautiful.”

“Fuck, you fucking...” Mickey sucks in a breath. His eyes blink quickly in an attempt to clear themselves and he lets out a shaky laugh. “You fucking sappy little shit.” He laughs again and maybe he’s gone crazy because everything Ian said sounds like a script from his internal monologue. Reaching up, he grabs the collar of Ian’s shirt and pulls him down because he’d rather kiss him then spew words that have his head spinning. Their kiss speaks loud enough to share everything. When they break apart, they stay close enough so that their foreheads are touching. Mickey laughs again. “Of course the kids perfect. It’s ours.” He closes his eyes and shares a breath with Ian. “Of course it’s perfect.” The tears are still there but they’re the result of relief and adoration. Wiping at his eyes, he looks at Katie, who had wisely faded into the background during the display of affection. “So…does the kid look okay?”

“I’m not done checking everything out, your baby is wiggly, but so far so good. I think we’ve gotten past the point where we should be concerned about things. Whether you like it or not, you’re turning out to be a really good pregnant person.” Katie smirks and sits back. “You two are really cute, for the record. Downright romantic.”

Squirming under the dissection of his sentiment, Mickey wishes Katie would go back to the ultrasound instead of exposing him for being what he is – painstakingly in love with Ian.

“Back off.” Ian gives a glance of mock warning to the doctor. “You can’t have him. He’s mine.”

“So he’s told me.” Katie lets out a loud laugh.

Mickey has no idea how things flipped but it feels good to have them out there. There are words that need to be shared in other places, in the safety of their home, but for now he and Ian have collided and landed on the same plateau. He might be Ian’s, but Ian sure as hell is his and he’ll fight for that statement to always ring true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going away for a wedding for a few days and I wanted to post this. For the record, angst is going to go on vacation too. This revelation had to happen between Ian and Mickey before things were happier. They are so frustrating because they just keep dancing around each other without actually talking about the things they are worried about.  
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Boundaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly some sweet stuff because it needed to be done. And lots of belly love from Ian because he likes to paw at his man. :-)

Mickey’s head is swimming.

The whole drive back from Katie’s left Ian staring at him, mouth starting to say something before he seemingly choked on the words. He’d stopped trying to talk when Mickey threatened his life and balls, but the warning didn’t seem to have done anything to put an end to the puppy dog stares Ian’s giving him.

What happened in Katie’s office needs to be talked about. What Ian said…the things that came out of his mouth…Mickey needs to deal with that. It makes him nervous as hell because he’s gotten better at being a big boy with all grown up emotions but he’s still not mastered being brave enough to talk about them without some blow to his self-confidence. Flaying himself open like that is hard, even when he’s only flayed open to Ian.

Ian seems to have forgotten Mickey’s threats and tries to get words out as Mickey parks his car outside their apartment.

“Shut it,” Mickey says with a glare. He huffs and slips out of the car, his entire demeanor stomping along with him down the pavement as he walks towards the apartment.

Ian is hot on his heels, matching Mickey’s pace and slipping through the door before it slams shut. “Mick – ” Ian pleas, a dejected look on his face when Mickey cuts him off by shoving him towards the futon.

“Sit,” is the only command Mickey gives before turning around and grabbing himself a glass of water. He drinks almost the whole thing in one gulp, feeling like he needs to busy himself with swallowing so that his muscles have something to do other than twitch with nervousness. Putting the glass down, he turns and sees Ian trying to make sense of his actions. Guilt hits him. He isn’t trying to make Ian feel like an outsider in all of this but he’s not sure he can handle making much sense to Ian at the moment. He’s got to go through this little ritual to hype himself up. “I’m going to talk to you. I just…I just need a minute, okay?” He nods for no good reason and then scrunches one side of his face in thought. “And food. I need…food.”

Ian makes a move to stand up. “We’ve got some –” he tries to say but he’s cut off again by a shushing noise from Mickey.

“I’ve got it. Just sit.” Mickey holds a hand out at Ian to stay him and waits until the man settles back on the futon before turning and pulling out two slices of bread and slathering peanut butter on them. He takes the shoddily made sandwich with him and sits on the futon beside his boyfriend. Ian’s looking at him expectantly and he can’t handle that look so he focuses instead on the sandwich and chewing mouthfuls slowly. The slower he takes to eat the sandwich, the longer he can delay actually talking. His head is a jumbled mess because he’s been floored by Ian’s display of affection in Katie’s office and he doesn’t know how to pick himself off the ground without tearing up again. The food does settle some of the unease in his stomach but he feels his vision blurring when he remembers how Ian managed to mirror his own feelings about having the baby. Of course, it’s so like Ian to just blurt out what he’s feeling and force Mickey to deal with it. He’s like a tidal wave; sometimes there is destruction in his path but sometimes he’s just clearing the way for things that are already happening. It’s as if he knew Mickey’s been getting attached. Every time the kid moves and broadcasts to the world that it’s alive and fighting, Mickey feels an instinctual jolt of pride.

And yeah, he cried in Katie’s office, and she told him it was okay, but it’s more than what she suspected. The gravity of what he’s been coming to terms with is heavy shit. Adding Ian’s declaration has him seeing stars. Or hearts, more accurately, because he’s thrumming with warm and fuzzy feelings for Ian but they’re manifesting in new ways. Katie warned him the hormones do crazy ass things but he’s been blindly determined to ignore that fact. He can kick hormones’ collective asses. That was the original plan, at least. Now, he’s thinking down is up and that the hormones might be winning this war as he shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth with a huff.

It’s clear Ian’s losing his patience, making Mickey unsure if he’s going to get an earful of complaints from him or a fistful of fingers punched into his shoulder. Given the fact that Ian would rather harm himself than cause actual harm to Mickey in the current situation, Mickey’s betting on complaints. He cups a hand over Ian’s mouth and shushes again. “You listen. I’ll talk. Okay? I need to get it all out before you start making my head feel funny again and my vision turn to shit.”

Ian nods, Mickey’s cupped hand going along with the movement.

“We need to talk,” Mickey says, prompting an eye roll from Ian over how obvious that statement is. He lets his hand fall away from Ian’s mouth and runs it though his own hair, scratching at the nape of his neck and allowing his fingers linger there while he talks. “So...the other day I was talking to Mandy.” He studies Ian’s features and knows without having to be told that his boyfriend already knows all of this. Mandy has a habit of knowing about his and Ian’s relationship from both ends of the story. “Well anyway, we were talking because I just felt like I needed her to know. And you know what? She said she hopes the kid looks like you. Which is a dick thing for someone’s sister to say to them but it’s Mandy and she’s got this thing for you.” Mickey shrugs, dragging his teeth across the right side of his bottom lip. “But then she got me thinking about it, you know, it looking like you. And the kid kept kicking me like maybe it liked that idea too. After that I just…I dunno…I kind of figured that if I’m doing all this – if we’re doing all this – then I want to be around the kid long enough to see if it does grow up to look like you. So…like…I get it. You know, that stuff you said at Katie’s. I dunno what is going to happen but you’re right.” Mickey’s tongue feels thick and he has to pause to swallow. “The kids beautiful. It’s there because of us. Because I fucking love you. Because we made it through all the bullshit in our lives to get to a point where we are just the two of us. Sure, it was an accident but we still did it.” His voice cracks and he’s not sure if he’s rambling or making sense. Ian’s still quiet, and he’s thankful because he’s not done yet. If Ian starts talking, he’s going to be a goner without a chance of finishing. His hand drops to the futon and tiptoes over to Ian’s forearm. The fingers walk over the skin there until he can get a loose hold on Ian’s hand and stroke the knuckles with his thumb. The gesture starts out slow and hesitant before building into a more confident display. “I sound like a fucking pussy but I’m glad it’s you because it’s like we’ve never been this close with anyone before and it’s gotta be some type of milestone that we’re doing this. And then you open your mouth and say all that stuff at Katie’s and it’s like we’re even closer because you’re in my head. I’m sorry I didn’t talk about it with you. I’m sorry I’m difficult. But somehow you know what I’m thinking even when I’m hiding it from myself. But I’m still sorry because that’s probably fucking with your mood and –”

Ian can’t stay silent then. His words lash out so quickly to correct Mickey before the man even realizes he’s made a misstep. “Don’t bring my bi-polar into it. I’ve got that handled. So don’t do things because you’re worried about _that_. You tell me because you’re my partner and we’ve fought enough battles to actually love each other and be able to tell each other how we feel.” Ian licks his lips and shifts closer. Mickey opens his mouth to talk but Ian covers it with a palm. “Nope. My turn now.”

Mickey contemplates biting Ian’s hand. The thought barely helps hold his tears back but it’s enough so that he can nod convincingly.

“You’re not ‘a fucking pussy’ by the way. Because I think I cried a lot more than you during your appointment. What you are is mind numbingly frustrating. Sometimes I just want to shake you because you never spit out what’s going on in that head of yours. But guess what? Sometimes I don’t either because I don’t want you to worry about me. I don’t want you to be worried about my mood or if my pills are working. I want you to focus on you, for once in your life. And I want you to be happy too, on some level. Because you’re fucking amazing. You’re a fucking badass to do what you’re doing without much of a complaint. I love you so much I want to punch you in the face because you have no right to be so loveable and frustrating at the same time and I don’t know what to do with myself. And yeah, we’ve both been kind of ridiculous about this whole thing. We should have talked about things _long_ before now, but at least we’re finally doing it.” Ian wipes at his eyes with the heel of the hand Mickey’s not holding onto. “I saw our kid on that screen and the way I felt…it felt kinda right. Loving it, I mean. It’s part of you Mick and it’s cliché as hell but I think it’s pretty awesome. And I wanna see what our kid looks like.” Ian takes a breath, his tone turning lighter when he finishes with, “I want it to look like you because kids are mean as fuck to the awkward ginger kid.”

Mickey laughs, turning his head to wipe his damp eyes on the shoulder of his shirt. “You turned out pretty awesome.”

“To you, maybe.” Ian’s laugh joins Mickey’s.

Nodding, Mickey gives a small but heartfelt smile. “You’re kind of making me want to stop talking and just tell you I love you.”

“I’d be okay with that.” Ian rolls his whole body, one vertebrae at a time, towards Mickey and takes up all the space that was once between them. He swings a leg over Mickey’s lap and curves his back so that he’s facing Mickey but their faces are on the same level. He pins Mickey’s hands into the couch and hovers his lips just out of range of Mickey’s lips. “But use your words.”

Mickey groans, squirming under Ian’s demand. If he hadn’t just laid all his cards on the table, he’d flip them and show Ian that actions speak louder than words but right now he’s powerless. Tilting his chin up, he breathes the three words into Ian’s lips. “I love you.”

A grin spreads across Ian’s face and he lets go of Mickey’s hands, coasting his own up and under Mickey’s shirt. “I love you too, you fucking badass.” Ian’s palms curve to match the swell of Mickey’s belly and settle there protectively.

Ian’s movements cause a flutter in Mickey’s heart that’s new to the man. He loves Ian more than he did two seconds ago and proves it by arching his back and stretching up into a kiss. The action also causes his stomach to fit more firmly in Ian’s hand, making the belly a very solid reality between them. His heart flutters again and he feels like waves of adoration are licking at his insides. “Fuck,” he mumbles into Ian’s mouth, tongue sweeping in.

There are still words that need to be spoken between them but Ian’s fingers twitch on his middle and his lips are getting rougher with the need to devour him. Words can be put on hold while they remind themselves of what they have.

***

Looking through responses to his help-wanted ad on his phone is starting to frustrate Ian. Mostly, it’s because a lot of the responses are bullshit. Half of the people have no experience whatsoever with woodworking and he doesn’t have time to train someone in that.

Sighing, he puts the phone down, tilts his head back so he can press his hands over his eyes and groan.

“What?” Mickey asks, sauntering up to the bed. The faded, stretched out old black t-shirt he’s wearing clings a little tightly around his middle. He raises an eyebrow over the way that fact seems to have caught Ian’s eye. There is another “what” hanging in his expression.

Ian slumps down into bed and snorts. “All of the response to my attempt at hiring an assistant have been crap. It’s been a few weeks, Mick. I…I just thought maybe I would have some help by now.” He licks his lips and turns his face to watch his boyfriend’s approach.

Mickey climbs onto the bed and maneuvers himself over Ian’s legs to get to his usual side. “You’ll find someone. I know you feel like it’s been a long time but a few weeks isn’t that long when you’re looking for a good worker.” Mickey rolls onto his side, propping himself up enough so that he’s he can look down at Ian, who has moved onto his side so they can keep facing each other.

“Yeah, I know.” Ian does know that. It’s just that he’s feeling burned out and he’s worried that he won’t find someone before Mickey’s not able to work anymore. Mostly, he just wants to find someone he can trust with his business because he fully intends to leave work to that person in favor of talking care of Mickey if need be. A laugh leaves his throat as soon as he has the thought because Mickey will probably fight him tooth and nail on that plan. Hell, he’s seen the man be stubborn enough to take care of himself after pretty severe beat-downs. “I just wanna hire someone before things become too much for me.”

“ _Are they too much_?” Mickey probes, all concern and worry. His eyes mirror the same qualities.

Shaking his head slowly, Ian looks Mickey in the eyes. “No. I’m good. I just wanna get ahead of things before they actually do become too much.” Ian makes a gesture to mime shoving the thought away. “I’m fine. I’d tell you otherwise.” He smiles. “How are you feeling?”

“Huge.” Allowing himself to fall down to the bed, Mickey groans. “I can’t even lay on my stomach anymore.” Motioning towards his belly, Mickey gives a halfhearted attempt to roll onto his stomach. “It’s not comfortable laying like this but it is how I’ve always fallen asleep; that way or with you wrapped around me like a damn octopus.” He snorts and stays on his side. “This belly gets in the way.”

Ian laughs at the look of defeat in Mickey’s eyes. His boyfriend isn’t radiating too much anger or annoyance, just a general sense that he’s miffed at the obvious changes to his body. Patting the spot on the bed directly next to his hip, Ian beckons him. “Come ‘ere, princess.” When Mickey balks at him, he tries again. “Come on, seriously.” This time Mickey rolls his eyes and listens, sliding closer. Ian takes over, tugging and manipulating Mickey until he’s curled up in Ian. In this position, Ian’s got Mickey on his side with his swollen middle supported just above Ian’s hip and his head on Ian’s shoulder. Their legs are tangled and Mickey wiggles a few times before they figure out a way to lock their bodies comfortably. “Comfortable?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.” Mickey settles in and his breath fans out across Ian’s collar bone. Tension melts from him and Ian warms over the fact that all it took was a little of his ingenious maneuvering to wipe the frustration off Mickey’s face.

“Kid okay?” Ian asks.

“Yeah. Been good all day. Kinda quiet actually. Didn’t distract me when I was laying new electric work in a bedroom today. Don’t worry _mom_ ,” Mickey teases, “that electricity was off while I was working.”

Ian’s voice drips with innocence when he states, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Mmm hmm.” Mickey sounds amused but doesn’t push the issue. Instead, he tugs Ian closer, relaxing his body into the redhead’s.

Mickey letting Ian snuggle up next to him out of nowhere is a new thing. Mickey’s actually all for cuddling like this, but usually it’s when they’re both lazy or after sex. It’s obvious that both of their brains are wired right now, so the fact that they’re so close to each other that they can practically feel the wheels turning in both of their heads is different. Good but different. They lay there with unspoken words feeling like static between them. Ian’s hand drops over Mickey’s distended middle and strokes a circle over it like he’s seen Mickey do in the past. Ian really wants to see more of that swell but Mickey’s taken to sleeping with t-shirts lately, which Ian kinda understands. It’s probably jarring to have a visual reminder that things aren’t as they usually are. Mickey’s never expressed any self-doubt over physical qualities but Ian thinks maybe that’s on the horizon. The thought makes Ian hold onto Mickey just a little tighter and maybe Mickey doesn’t even realize the change, but he hopes he does. He hopes he knows that the bump in his middle doesn’t make Ian want him any less.

Mickey’s voice deters Ian from further thoughts. He clears his throat and hesitantly states, “I was looking into that open adoption thing. You know, the one where you get to see the kid and they know who their birth parents are.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It…seems maybe good. I dunno. Just something to think about. We don’t have to worry about it now. Actually, I really don’t feel like deciding about it now.” Mickey swallows and twists his head so he can look at Ian. “That okay? ‘Cause if you wanna talk about it…we can.”

“Well, we can _think_ about it for a little while and _talk_ about it later.” Ian stops when he notices Mickey wince. “Kid kicking you?”

“Yeah. Forget what I said earlier about it being quiet before. It’s gone full on alien wiggly right now. Shit,” Mickey curses under his breath and rubs a hand over his stomach. He semi-snags the hand that Ian’s had resting there and brings it along for the ride, effectively making them mirror the same action. The movement draws Ian’s attention; it’s a slow soothing sweep of his hands. Mickey keeps repeating it, almost putting Ian into a trance.

“Does it hurt?” Ian asks, taking his hand away and cupping Mickey’s jaw.

“It’s not _comfortable_ but it doesn’t hurt.” Mickey shifts and scrunches his face. “It’s harder than I’ve ever felt it kick before.” Suddenly, his eyes go wider and he lets out a push of air. “Oooph,” he snorts and brings both hands to his middle.

“Maybe I can kiss it better?” The tip of Ian’s tongue sneaks out just enough to lick his lips and he gently shifts Mickey off of him so he can roll on his side and they are eye-to-eye. His lips meet Mickey’s to swallow whatever words he was going to say. The kiss is sweet and slow, both hands cupping Mickey’s jaw now and keeping his face close.

“I don’t think kisses make the alien stop. The thing is kicking more.” Despite the protest that leaves his mouth, Mickey sighs contentedly. His hands are still on his belly but he’s angled up on an elbow to keep them close enough for another connection of their lips. Their next kiss is firmer, and Mickey turns it forceful like he always tends to.

Ian takes some time before pulling out of the kiss, trailing his lips in a slow drag over Mickey’s cheek and down to his jaw bone. He can’t stop himself from sneaking kisses up to the spot right in front of Mickey’s ear, the one before his hairline starts. Then he reverses direction and starts kissing down the man’s neck. It’s obvious the kid is still kicking him because he feels Mickey shifting and curling an arm around the underside of his belly. If Mickey was right about Ian’s kisses waking their kid up, then he feels a little guilty for stirring up all this trouble. As soon as he inhales the warmth of Mickey’s neck, however, Ian lets the guilt go and keeps kissing. He has to scoot his body closer to the foot of the bed as his lips press wet marks in a downward path over the fabric of Mickey’s t-shirt.

“Ian,” Mickey drawls out with an upward inflection at the end. “What’re you doing?”

“Shuddup, Mick.” Ian growls into Mickey’s chest, kissing him one more time before dipping lower. His lips land on the cotton covered swell between them and he hears a whine of protest from his boyfriend. “I’m kissing things better.” He breathes against the solid curve and his lips pull up in the corners when his brain gets foggy over the fact that he’s kissing Mickey’s stomach but it’s almost like he’s kissing their kid as well. Mickey’s belly is cute. He knows it is. Katie even agrees. Right now, it’s making him feel more than cuteness vibes. He braves ghosting his fingers down Mickey’s body until they hit the hem of the t-shirt and he can tug it up.

“Ian!” Mickey pulls his elbows out from supporting himself, making him fall onto his back when he reaches down to yank the t-shirt out of Ian’s grip. “Don’t,” he warns.

“Why?” Ian rolls on his stomach, holding himself up on his palms and arching his back so he can look at Mickey.

“Jus’ don’t.” Avoiding Ian’s gaze, Mickey turns his head to the side.

“Sure, just tell me why.” Ian licks his lips and waits.

Eventually, Mickey resumes making eye contact. “Because, it’s weird. And not…” Mickey pauses to think, letting out a loud huff. “It’s not fucking sexy, okay? It’s just weird.”

Ian scoffs. “That’s bull shit.” Cocking his head to the side, he says, “It’s not weird. It’s _different_. And you are fucking sexy. The noises you make when I do this,” Ian demonstrates by ignoring Mickey’s order and pressing a kiss to the exposed sliver of skin where the t-shirt and boxers don’t meet up, “are fucking sexy. And when I kiss you here,” he says against Mickey’s skin when he manages to ruck up the shirt an inch and kiss him with lingering softness, “the sound you make is masturbatory material.” Ian kisses Mickey again and again, purring into man’s skin. He pulls at the elastic of his boyfriend’s boxers down on an angle to reveal Mickey’s hipbone and nips at it.

“Shit,” Mickey moans out, rolling his hips. He immediately stops fighting Ian, choosing to stop holding the hem of his shirt down and comb his fingers through red hair instead. “Fucking good thing you still think I’m sexy because I’m going to need you to keep doing that and _more_.”

The flirting quality to Mickey’s voice makes Ian laugh and he presses a smile into Mickey’s hip before taking advantage of the older man’s surrender. He coasts both palms up Mickey’s thighs and keeps going, not stopping until they are dragging Mickey’s shirt up to his chest. His pregnant belly is exposed and Ian studies it to familiarize himself with the new changes in Mickey’s body. Ian’s aware of Mickey watching him, eyes tense under Ian’s exploratory gaze. In an attempt to put him at ease, Ian reaches a hand up and grabs Mickey’s, squeezing it as he resumes lavishing attention on Mickey’s swollen middle. The fact that Mickey squeezes his hand back makes Ian hum.

The moment would have continued with more drawn out kisses and Ian’s eventual intention of moving things south to take Mickey’s dick into his mouth but their little alien has other plans for them.

Ian’s left palm is on the side of Mickey’s stomach and his lips a pressing close to the pregnant man’s bellybutton when there is a sensation coming from under Mickey’s skin. “Woah,” Ian gasps, pulling back and staring wide eyed at Mickey. “Was that – ”

“The kid?” Mickey finishes for him. With a nod, he breathes out, “yeah. Moving like crazy. You felt that?” He shimmies backwards, slipping out from under Ian as he rests against the headboard.

“Yeah I fucking felt that,” Ian grins. The thing he felt was soft but fleeting, gone before giving his brain a chance to remember it. His heart thumps quicker as he paws at Mickey’s middle, realizing after a few grabs just how enthusiastic he’s coming across to his boyfriend. Palms searching at a more calculated speed, he tries to find movement again but all seems quiet. “Guess it doesn’t like me,” he says, coating his disappointment with a carefree shrug.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” Mickey gives an amused snort and shakes his head slowly. Rolling his eyes, he gives Ian a knowing look. “You’re not going to stop doing that until it moves again, huh?”

“Maybe?”

Mickey rolls his eyes again. “Here,” he says, taking Ian’s hand and placing it on the upper right side of his belly. Applying some pressure, he pushes Ian’s hand firmly against him. “Just wait a sec.”

They wait, both of them frozen in the moment. Ian realizes he’s barely daring to breathe, but he feels the warmth of Mickey’s stomach under his palm and the way that his boyfriend is breathing calmly. Nothing happens until suddenly it does. There is a fluttering and it’s not in Ian’s imagination. He can feel their kid kicking. Punching. Moving. Doing whatever it’s doing. Sometimes Ian has trouble with reacting to things, the type of things that cause bursts of emotion, either negative or positive. Sometimes he blames the meds for dulling that part of him, sometimes he blames it on his personality. He always feels things on the inside but that’s usually where he keeps them because then they’re safe in his head. People can’t take those feelings away from him. But it’s just him and Mickey, and this feeling belongs to Mickey as much as it belongs to him. “Woah,” Ian gasps again. “Mick…that’s…awesome.” This time Ian’s brain is able to keep up with the baby’s movements and he follows them. “Mick,” he says through a grin, unable to get more out because he’s speechless. A wave of awe hits Ian and his eyes tear up, rendering him helpless to do anything more than wet his lips and smile. “Mickey,” he says again, the two syllables dripping with the fact that he’s impressed by the tiny life and the fact that his boyfriend is helping it grow.

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “It kinda does that a lot.” He relaxes into the headboard and let’s Ian fawn over him. “Shit, you don’t have to get all puppy-eyed like that. It’s just a normal thing, you know? Katie said you’d be able to feel it around now.”

“It’s not really a normal thing, Mick. It’s not normal for us. We’ve…you’ve never been pregnant before. We don’t have a kid. Now…it makes me realize that we _do_ have one.” Ian knows he has a dopey smile on his face and Mickey’s going to tease him about it, but he knows it will be contagious. Mickey will cave. They both got under each other’s skins years ago and now they live there.

“Yeah, okay, okay.” Mickey scoffs. “You done now? Because I thought you were gonna prove to me that you still think I’m sexy. Pawing at my fat middle doesn’t really do that.”

“It doesn’t?” Ian teases. He leans up and kisses the smug look off Mickey’s lips. “You’re sexy when you’re pushy,” he says with another kiss.

“Oh fuck you,” Mickey groans, gabbing Ian by the sides of his face and knocking their foreheads together. “Fuck me, actually.”

Ian planned on it. He really did.

He’d get to that. But he wants to linger in this newfound place for a bit because Mickey’s completely relaxed and the two of them are talking about the kid with smiles instead of anxiety attacks. That, in Ian’s opinion, makes Mickey the hottest thing on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Sorry for the wait. More will be up soon. I hope you all like it.  
> I appreciate your comments so much! They make me so happy.


	12. Retaining Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...there is some character building here....but then mostly dirty sex because Mickey's pregnancy craving is sex. Maybe skip the end of the chapter if that isn't your cup of tea.

Ian wakes up with Mickey draped over him.

“That’s new,” he muses in a whisper soft exhale against Mickey’s forehead.  Ian blinks sleep out of his eyes and cranes his neck so he can take in the sight of his boyfriend’s head pillowed on his chest. Mickey’s lips are parted slightly in complete relaxation and Ian smiles. They’re both naked, allowing Mickey’s rounded belly to be safely supported by Ian’s hip and share his warmth. The older man is out cold; he doesn’t flinch when Ian cards his fingers through the dark tresses that are tucked under his chin.

Letting himself linger in the comforting weight of his boyfriend, Ian relaxes into the pillow. Even in his sleep, Mickey is pleading a pretty good case for Ian to stay in bed all morning. The problem with that is the fact that Ian’s supposed to meet with the handful of decent candidates who responded to his help-wanted ad. He also has a bunch of physical work to do, ensuring his long day will be even longer if he decides to lay with Mickey for as long as he wants to.

A yawn wakes up the muscles in Ian’s face and he rolls the muscles in his back. Mickey’s still asleep, reminding Ian of how tired the pregnant man must have been. Usually, Mickey’s awake if Ian jostles him too much, like he’s doing now. And Mickey’s never curling around Ian like he is this morning. Ian doesn’t mind the change in routine. The warm, solid weight of his boyfriend makes Ian smile. It doesn’t hurt that when Mickey sleeps he gets this relaxed quality to his whole body and Ian thinks it’s endearing. Testing to see how hard it would be to slip out from under Mickey, Ian finds that it shouldn’t be too difficult. He runs a hand down natural curve of his boyfriend’s body, starting at his shoulder and tracing his side. His hand stops just before Mickey’s hipbone and slides towards the center of his belly, cupping that distended middle with his palm. He can’t feel any movement now but smiles at the thought of how much he had been able to feel. When he thinks that their kid is probably sleeping along with Mickey, his smiles grows and doesn’t leave his face as he sneaks out of bed. His palm lingers on Mickey’s stomach for a while longer as he bends down and presses a kiss to the man’s temple.

Snagging his running gear from the corner of the room, he slips into it as quietly as possible. There are a ton of things he has to do today but he _needs_ this run. Too many emotions from the last few days are bouncing around inside of him and need to be sorted out. Running clears his head. He’s out the door a few minutes later, all laced up and ready to go, but not without on last smirk in his boyfriend’s direction and scrawling a note on a scrap of paper to let Mickey know he went running.

***

Wringing his hands, Mickey pushes his thumbs into the meat of his palms and massages out some of the tension lingering there from working on such a small space with intricate precision for a long time. Arching his back results in satisfying pops and cracks that spur a noise of contentment from Mickey’s lips.

Jumping in his car, he grabs his phone, turning it on to check the time. Before he actually looks at the numbers, his phone’s wallpaper makes him laugh. It’s Ian sitting on the toilet, ankles spread out but knees tucked in, glaring at the camera while giving the finger. The annoyed expression on Ian’s face makes Mickey laugh _every time_. He has no idea what possessed him to take the picture in the first place but since Ian was always forcing him into taking pictures he guesses he figured he’d catch Ian when he probably didn’t want to be photographed. Giving one last snort, he checks the time and pockets the phone.  “Hmm.” He’s still got an hour or so before he is scheduled to meet a new client and give them an estimate. The time could be used to replenish his supplies and restock the SUV, but he’s got other things on the brain.

Actually, there is only one thing on Mickey’s brain. It’s been there for a while like a leech that won’t let go. For the most part, Mickey hasn’t truly fallen victim to food cravings. He’s been eating more ever since the Zofran did its’s job, and maybe he’s eating things at weird times, but he’s not _ravenously craving_ any particular food. What he is craving, however, is sex. And not just any sex. He _needs_ a good hard pounding that makes his knees week and leaves him unable to walk. The thought alone practically has his mouth watering and dick twitching.

He’s horny as hell and needs to remedy that as soon as possible.

Starting the car, he puts one hand on the steering wheel and uses the other to palm the slowly growing arousal under his jeans. A groan leaves his lips and he lets his eyes flutter closed. Katie hadn’t told him about this part but he’s done enough research. Websites said that hormones wreaking havoc on his system could result in an increased sex drive. There was detailed analysis over why that was the case but Mickey didn’t give a shit about that. All he knew was that Ian was hot, their sex was amazing, and that he needs it. All the time. Fuck hormones. He’d rather Ian fuck him.

Keeping his hand on his erection, Mickey swings the SUV to the left and heads towards Ian’s workshop. It’s the middle of the day and he has time to kill. He and Ian work weird schedules that they aren’t always so good about sticking too so it’s not unheard of for Mickey to pop in on Ian if he’s riled up and needs a fix. Ian’s easier to track down during the day; Mickey’s always driving around.

Mickey bites his bottom lip and squeezes his dick a little more firmly, groaning at the thought of Ian’s hand replacing his own.

Fuck, he feels like a hyped up teenager again. It’s not hormones. _It’s not_. It’s just that Ian’s really good at making him feel good and vice versa.

There is a pleasant strumming in the back of Mickey’s brain over the understanding that he and Ian have evolved. Their relationship evened out into the semblance of a healthy one. It took a long time for that to make sense for Mickey but now he realizes he’s happy whenever he’s with Ian; it doesn’t have to be sexual. He’s happy to lounge around watching t.v. or sitting down to eat at the same time, regardless of what the meal is. Sex makes him happy too, of course, but it’s different than it was. It’s desperate for new reasons, ones that are more “I need to breathe _with_ you to survive” rather than “I need this to figure out who I am.” Touches, kisses, and sex ground them and remind them that they’re in _it_ together.

Right now, however, Mickey knows all that already and _needs_ sex because he needs to come. He can feel arousal unfurling at his core and the drive towards Ian feels like it goes on for hours rather than the quick cut across town that it actually is. When he finally makes it there, he parks next to Ian’s truck, a frown on his face over the fact that there is another truck parked on the other side. It’s not often Ian has people visit the workshop, but that fact bothers him less than the fact that if Ian is in the building with another person, then he can’t get busy pummeling Mickey’s ass. Snorting, he flicks open the glove compartment and finds the bottle of lube he stashes there. Once it’s tucked into his jacket pocket, he hops out of the car and makes his way inside.

He can hear Ian before he can see him; his laugh is echoing through the place and bouncing off the high ceilings. When he comes into view, Mickey can see the wide open mouthed smile that usually accompanies that sound. He’s leaning against his table saw, arms crossed over his chest, facing a person Mickey’s never seen before. The guy is tall, taller than Ian, and has to be at least close to their age but Mickey can’t tell much more than that. He’s laughing too, something that digs straight into Mickey and he furrows his brow and clears his throat. Both men whip their heads towards him, startled and wide eyed.

The expression doesn’t last too long on Ian’s face; it fades into a warm smile of recognition. “Hey, Mick. What’re you doing here?”

“I was in the area,” Mickey says before licking his lips and taking focused steps towards Ian. “I figured I would stop in.” He reaches out and hooks a finger in the waist of Ian’s jeans, a move he’s perfected over the years, and yanks Ian towards him so he has to take a stumbling step to stop himself as their chests press against one another’s. It’s not a particularly tender display of affection but it gets the point across loud and clear that Ian and Mickey are _something_. Together. Mickey keeps the eye contact and busies his tongue by sliding it across his back molars. He’s trying not to look agitated and isn’t sure how good of a job he’s doing.

Ian’s response is a cock of his head and an arch of his right eyebrow. His smile speaks volumes about how he’s picking up every clue Mickey’s trying to cover up. “Uhh huh,” Ian says with a slow nod. He presses his chest just a fraction closer to Mickey but it’s enough to sandwich the pregnant man’s belly between them. Their moment breaks when Ian pulls away and twists to face the other man. He gives a smile and shake of his head before turning to Mickey again. “Mickey, this is Jason. I just hired him to help out with the business. He’s got a pretty impressive resume for an up-and-comer.” He turns towards the man he just mention. “Jason, this is Mickey, my partner.”

Jason’s expression is light but his mouth stays slightly parted as he tries to figure out exactly what way Ian mean’s “partner”. It becomes all the more obvious by the lack of any personal space between the two other men and he nods in acknowledgement of the fact. Coming back to himself, Jason steps forward and extends a hand towards Mickey. “Oh, hey! It’s nice to meet you man.”

Mickey takes the offered hand and gives Jason a firm shake. “Hey.” He tries to size Jason up but keeps falling flat. He doesn’t _not_ like him but he’s not sure if he likes him either. The man is friendly, that’s for sure, and handsome in that tall dark kind of way. The way Mickey _doesn’t_ prefer. Turning to Ian, he scratches at the back of his head. “I didn’t know you were hiring someone today.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know either. But Jason’s kinda perfect actually. He just moved to the area and was looking for work. Showed up on a whim; I wasn’t even expecting him. Kinda ended up being a perfect situation.” Ian shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I was just telling him about this guy I had in here earlier whose idea of making furniture was putting pressed particle board together. Seriously, Mick, you have no idea how thankful I am to hire someone who actually understands how to handle his wood.” Ian laughs at the possible double meaning of his word choice and Jason chimes in.

That repeat of shared laughter irks Mickey. He snorts and shoves both of his hands in his pockets, but unlike Ian’s casual gesture, it comes off with all the anger he’s meant it to. What he hadn’t intended to do was pull his open jacket to the side and expose his belly, barely covered by a t-shirt that’s working really hard to cover the swell.

“Oh, woah.” Jason says when his eyes land on Mickey. “You’re pregnant!” There is astonishment in his tone at first but as he continues it becomes obvious that the realization merely took him by surprise rather than shocks him.

“So?” Mickey snorts.

Recognizing he might have treaded on uneven ground, Jason puts up a hand. “Nothing. Just…my wife and I just had a baby a few months ago. We moved out here to be closer to her family. My whole world’s been revolving around _baby_ stuff. I just...noticed you were pregnant. That’s all.” Jason shrugs innocently.

“You’re married?” Mickey asks dumbly.

A smile bubbles up to Jason’s face. “Yeah, three years.”

“Huh.” It takes four seconds for Mickey to go from feeling pissed off to feeling like an idiot. It must show on his face because Ian’s got one hand hiding the smirk on his face and is shaking his head at him. “He’s married,” Mickey mouths so that only Ian can see it.

Ian nods, a tiny laugh escaping with an exhale of breath. “Yeah; I needed a helper and Jason needed a job. Needed to support that family, you know? I figured that was something I could empathize with.  So, I hired him.”

Mickey feels even more foolish then. Of course Ian would hire someone who wasn’t just good at the job but actually needed the job. It makes sense to hire Jason, someone who is going to take things seriously because he’s got more people to think about than just himself. “Oh.” Taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing them over his chest, Mickey widens his stance and looks towards the door. “I didn’t mean to fuck up your day if you’re busy, Ian, you know, showing Jason the ropes or something. I can talk to you later at home.”

Ian reaches out a hand to force Mickey to turn towards him. “Hey, Mick…you never fuck up my day.” He looks at Mickey like they’re the only two in the room and just like that Mickey feels like they might very well be.

Balling his hand into a fist and covering his mouth as he coughs, Jason reminds them that he’s still there. “Listen, I was going to head out anyway. I have to pick up my wife and daughter from my mother-in-law’s house. But…uh…I could start tomorrow if you need me to.”

Ian nods. “Yeah. That would be good. Come by around eleven? I’ve got some things I need to do in the morning. But we can get started then. And maybe, you know, figure out a schedule for you. I know you said you’re flexible but with a kid and everything…we’ll try to find something that works.” Ian extends a hand towards Jason. “It was nice meeting you, man.”

“Yeah, likewise. You too, Mickey.” Jason gives a quick variation of a salute as ways of goodbye and takes his leave.

The minute Jason is out the door, Ian’s grinning at Mickey. It’s almost unnerving because he’s not saying anything, just shaking his head slightly and Cheshire cat grinning.

“What?” Mickey asks.

“You’re jealous.” Ian steps forward and tugs Mickey closer by fisting the chest of his shirt and pulling.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” Ian accuses, stepping closer so their legs slot together. “I saw the way you sized him up.” He licks his lips and brings his face closer to Mickey’s. He’s still smirking and Mickey is torn between wanting to punch that grin off his face or taking Ian’s lips and giving them something more satisfying to grin around.

“Yeah well,” Mickey tries to work his way through a denial before scoffing and giving up. “Yeah, fine. Maybe I was. But I…I was so focused on finding you here  alone so that you could fuck me senseless and when I found you here with him…I guess my brain was still stuck on sex and I…I just got jealous. Okay? Happy now?”

Ian’s eyes look like they’re about to cross when he pulls back in confusion. “Fuck you senseless?”

“Yeah.” Puffing up his chest, Mickey barrels through his boyfriend’s baffled look. “And Jason looks like…maybe you’d find him attractive and…I dunno. It’s fucking stupid I guess.” The jealousy, however, is still coursing thought Mickey, bristling his edges and that fact can be read all throughout his posture.

“He’s straight. And married. And just had a kid. I think that he’s more focused on making money than getting some gay ass, especially ass that comes paired with an angry pregnant boyfriend.” He lets himself laugh as Mickey’s body language reaffirms the last part of his statement. “Besides…I don’t find him attractive.” Ian smiles and coasts a hand up Mickey’s front, along the side of his neck and then twists his wrist so that his palm curls around to the nape of his neck. “He’s not you.”

“Shuddup,” Mickey breathes out, turning his head to the side and swatting at Ian’s hand. Ian’s comment is saccharine sweet and Mickey wants to rebuke it but he can’t because it’s doing the trick at warming him and damping out his jealousy. “I know you wouldn’t do anything,” Mickey says with a shake of his head. “I have no idea why I’m being so ridiculous.” When he laughs this time, it doesn’t sound forced or cut off. He’s allowing himself to own up to his nonsensicality.

“I have a pretty good idea.” Ian says with a gesture towards Mickey’s middle.

“Oh, yeah? When’d you get so smart?”

Ian answers with a laugh and resumes the close stance in front of Mickey. “Can we go back to the reason you said you were here? You know…the part about fucking you senseless.” Licking his lips, his eyes lose their playful quality and go darker.

Mickey can definitely get on that train and the need he’d felt on the drive over resurfaces in an instant. He’s fixated on the way Ian’s pink tongue darts out and slides across his lips. Arousal blooms in him again, making him look at Ian with half lidded eyes. “Yeah…that.” He scratches at the back of his neck and his fingers brush into the ones Ian’s placed there; lacing their fingers together for a moment, he licks his own lips. “I had an hour to kill, less now that Jason sucked up some of it, and I’m horny as a fucking rabbit. I thought maybe you could do something about that.”

“Yeah?” Ian raises a suggestive eyebrow and presses their foreheads together.

“I gotta be outta here by 3:15. You up for the challenge, Gallagher?” Mickey matches Ian’s eyebrow raise and presses into his boyfriend with the same amount of force. He and Ian have long since dropped most of their name calling. They’re simply Mickey – or Mick – and Ian most of the time. But times like these, when they’re challenging each other and trying to push a lot of buttons, old habits seep out.

“Oh, I’m fucking up for it.” Without warning, Ian crashes their lips together and Mickey’s long simmering want for the other man washes over both of them. They meld together in prefect synchrony. Whatever jealousy left in Mickey’s bones manifests itself in the way he lurches forward and keeps Ian locked in a searing kiss. It’s bordering on messy, but the passion in it makes up for that and Mickey’s head is spinning. They stumble for a bit, not releasing each other from the kiss while making their way across the workshop to a large empty worktable.

With a rough shove, Ian slams Mickey’s ass up against the table so that he’s not on top of it but using it for support. Plastering himself against him, Ian crushes their mouths together and swallows down a surprised gasp. Mickey’s mouth opens to his and he’s able to slip his tongue inside and turn his boyfriend’s surprise into moans.

The kissing gets more frantic as Mickey makes a hungry whine for more and Ian happily works their lips together. Everything feels good in a way that starts to feed the craving for Ian Mickey’s been battling with all day. They both moan, low and dirty enough to thicken their arousals. Their tongues meet in a breathy slide, and Mickey moans when he feels Ian tilt his hips, brushing their obvious arousals together.

“How you wanna do this?” Ian asks, leaning close to Mickey’s ear.

“I wasn’t kidding about the ‘fuck me senseless’ part,” Mickey says, grabbing Ian’s jaw and forcing him back into a rough kiss. “This kid’s got me craving you…hard and fast and _good_.” He pushes up, grinding their clothed dicks together.

Ian bites his lip and groans. “It’s gonna have to be a little rough. I don’t exactly keep more than a first aid kit on hand here.”

Without breaking contact, Mickey pulls the lube out of his coat pocket and slams it down on the table.

“Of course you came prepared,” Ian says with amusement.

“You have _no idea_ how much I need you right now.” Mickey growls, biting Ian’s lower lip and getting onto his toes to be eyelevel with Ian. “So get to it.” He gives in to another kiss, tongues forgetting words and practicing mapping out the insides of each other’s mouths. Ian kisses the breath right out of Mickey, making the primal want inside of him boil over.

“You’ve got too much on.” Pulling back, Ian stares at Mickey’s flushed cheeks and panting mouth. With a rough yank, he forces Mickey’s jacket open so that the shorter man gets the hint and lets his shoulders slope downward so it can slide off. Then he trails his fingers to the waist of Mickey’s jeans, fingers making quick work of the fasteners, tugging down just enough to tease at actually removing the fabric. Slowly, Ian works Mickey’s pants and boxers down over his thighs and pushed them low enough so that they’d fall to the ground on their own. He restrains himself from touching the other man’s hard cock, grabbing Mickey’s hips instead and spinning him so quickly that his boyfriend has to slam both palms flat against the worktable to steady himself. Mickey had barely gotten his footing when Ian brought a flat palm down to slap loudly across the meat of Mickey’s left butt cheek.

“What the fuck?” Mickey shouts with a surprised inhale but it’s tinged with a pleasurable reverberation to it, turning the exhale into more of a moan. He’s not really upset with Ian’s smack, but he wasn’t expecting that. It’s nice, though, because it makes him feel like Ian’s not afraid to get rough. Mickey is tough. He’s not going to break. It makes him moan again at the fact that Ian realizes that.

“Just reminding you that your ass is the only one that gets my attention.” Ian curves over Mickey, his lips working a kiss into the base of his boyfriend’s neck. The kiss shifts into a smile as Ian brings his palm down on Mickey’s right butt cheek.

Unexpectedly, Mickey arches his back, presenting the roundness of his ass to Ian more fully. He spreads his legs and leans against the table on his forearms. The touch makes his heart skip a beat and shiver.

Ian can’t help himself. He slides a hand over the curve of each butt cheek and squeezes them. With Mickey still mostly dressed, it leaves very little open real-estate for kisses so he falls to his knees and uses both palms to knead the muscles of Mickey’s ass cheeks and spread them wider. He keeps massaging Mickey’s ass, sucking wet kisses into the skin that’s reddened from his slaps. While his movements air on being rough, Mickey’s moan lets on that he doesn’t mind. Digging his fingers into the muscles again, he gives no warning before ducking his head and licking a stripe over Mickey’s furled entrance.

“Shit, Ian!” Surprised, Mickey almost lets his forearms slip from supporting his weight but he catches himself before he lands ungracefully on his face. 

Under his breath, Ian lets out a satisfied groan and traces the tip of his tongue around the muscle, teasing the edges by barely grazing it. 

As much as Mickey wants Ian to draw that moment out, he needs more. He wishes the noise coming out of his mouth isn’t the whine that it actually is, but that’s what he’s been reduced to. He feels the way his blood is rushing and making him flutter his eyes closed. “Ian, come on.” That sparks Ian into sealing his lips over the hole and kissing it, clearly taking his time, gifting Mickey with a few swipes of his tongue before sucking the opening.

 

Mickey gives up any pretenses of holding it together and a strung out moan takes its time leaving his lips. Jutting his rear closer to Ian’s mouth, he gasps when his boyfriend finally stops teasing and wiggles the tip of his tongue past the tight ring. A few more swirls has Ian’s tongue fucking into Mickey over and over until the older man is writhing against the wall so much that, in an attempt to still him, Ian has to drop his hands from Mickey’s ass to grab his thighs. It barely works; Mickey is getting bossy, trying everything in his power to get his boyfriend’s tongue deeper.

“Christ, Mickey…” Ian snickers in pride against the twitching hole. He pulls back to lick one long stripe over Mickey’s balls and back up to his entrance; this time sucking harder, pushing in deeper and stretching out the rim with firm presses of his tongue. Never letting up on his assault of Mickey’s ass, Ian shoves a hand down the front of his pants, stroking the arousal that Mickey’s moaning has caused. He starts fisting himself at a speed matching the tongue fucking he is giving Mickey and groans when he twists his fist just right.  The noise of pleasure vibrates against the sensitive skin Ian’s working open and Mickey quivers. Giving one last suck to Mickey’s entrance, he pulls back on his heels and reaches up to grab the lube. Mickey doesn’t need much of it; Ian’s done a thorough job of eating his boyfriend’s ass, leaving it slick and wet. Still, he coats two fingers before he allows one digit to tease at Mickey’s ass. The pregnant man is already wet and spread open from Ian’s prior rim job but Mickey tenses when Ian presses the finger forward, curling to catch the rim and stretch its limits.

“Nnng!” Mickey goes down on his triceps. Ian curls his finger inside of him in a different direction and he feels like his legs have gone boneless. He’d love to land flat on the table, ass up and Ian’s for the taking, but he keeps himself upright enough to protect his stomach. Trying to look over his shoulder, he cranes his neck and struggles to make out the image of Ian leaning closer to finger fuck him while still licking around his entrance. Eyes fluttering, Mickey splays his legs further apart and lets his boyfriend stretch him wider. His brain had envisioned a hard fucking, but this is working for him right now. They’ll have time for hard later. “Don’t you fucking stop that,” he growls.

“Yes, sir,” Ian teases before going back to work, adding another finger and giving a few drawn out licks before he sits back on his heels to watch Mickey’s body take in his fingers. He curls them, eliciting a breathless sound of pleasure from Mickey when the man clenches around his fingers, trying to suck him deeper and keep him there. After a several more solid thrusts and strokes with his fingers, Ian looks as blissed out as Mickey. Trailing a dragging kiss over Mickey’s ass, he twists his fingers and rubs them exactly over the spot he knows will cause a chain reaction in Mickey.

Waves of pleasure make their way to Mickey’s dick as Ian stimulates the bundle of nerves inside him. Mickey wants this to keep going but, at the same time, he needs more, more than Ian’s fingers. His dick throbs with another pulse of arousal and Mickey thinks that the organ’s spent enough time being neglected.

Like he’s read the other man’s mind, Ian states, “gonna fuck you, Mickey.” With a slow twist of his wrist, Ian brings his thumb back over the head of his own dick to smear whatever moisture accumulated there. Getting to his feet, he shoves his jeans down, exposing his arousal and slicking it with lube by stroking himself several times. Grabbing Mickey firmly by the hips, he yanks him into the position he wants him, spreads his ass cheeks and lines up so the crown of his dick nudges against Mickey’s wet entrance. Only then does he hesitate, like a giant hook has snagged him away from his plan.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Mickey growls. He twists his head to the left, looking at Ian’s face. The lust drunk haze is still clouding Ian’s eyes but there is something else there. Somethings that looks a lot like uncertainty. “What?”

“Mick…I…” Ian shifts on his feet. “Shit, _I want you_ , but you gotta tell me if it’s too much. ‘Cause I’ll give it to you hard…the way you like it…but I just wanna make sure both of you are okay.”

Ian’s choice of wording startles Mickey. He really doesn’t want to think about being responsible for two people – himself and their kid. It’s a pretty big buzzkill but he pushes past it because he knows how Ian gets. “Baby's fine. Katie said so, remember? I’ll tell you if it stops feeling good.” Mickey makes his point, arching his ass out more in invitation and a glare that walks the line between threatening and aroused. "Now, your dick. My ass. Get going."  _Please_ , he silently adds because he's desperate for it.

Thankfully, Ian listens. He slips right back into the moment, nudging the head of his dick inside. “Shit, Mick,” he hisses, hands coming to rest on Mickey’s hips. “Shit,” he repeats, voice going ragged. He makes his way in inch by inch, making little backwards pulls before pressing in further. With one firm roll of his hips he’s sheathed fully inside Mickey. His voice and brain are stuck on repeat, made dumb by the overwhelming feeling of heat and tightness surrounding his dick. “Shit.”

“Pick another word,” Mickey quips, but he’s left gasping when Ian picks that moment to pull out and slam in with more force. It’s fucking good and his eyes roll up, his fingers spread out for stability against the table and he welcomes the feeling of his body stretching around Ian’s girth. His dick is aching to be touched but when Ian starts really moving there is no way he’s going to be able to keep himself standing without being propped up by both hands. He compromises and decides to push back into Ian’s thrusting, taking Ian deeper and seeing stars when the tip of the younger man’s length nudges against his prostate.

Ian moans, dark and husky, "Oh, Mick! Baby!"

Mickey growls, "don't call me baby," because that’s starting to be weird now that there is one inside him. And he doesn't need to think about that right now. He wants to focus on the way Ian’s giving it to him; his teasing thrusts are long gone and he’s fucking Mickey with repeated long, deep, hard thrusts. Ian’s hips are keeping a steady motion and pounding a, "oh, fuck! Yea-yeah!" out of Mickey.

Ian groans and bends over Mickey so he can kiss the exposed skin at his neck. He keeps fucking harder and faster, slamming home and knocking Mickey's prostate into orbit. Ian’s thrusting so hard that Mickey rocks forward and falls onto his elbows. His right hand slides from Mickey’s hip, under the pregnant man’s shirt and curls tenderly around the swell containing their baby. Mickey tries to urge the hand off his middle and force it downward but Ian’s insistent, using force to keep his arm in place. The connection fuels Ian, making him hold on possessively, extending protective vibes towards both Mickey and their kid.

Mickey contemplates shoving Ian’s arm away more insistently, but his brain feels foggy. He can’t think of a reason why he should because it feels good having Ian hold him like that, shoving into him and daring anyone to come between them. Someone would lose their life if they tried at the current moment, Mickey thinks, because Ian’s gone a bit feral. He has no idea how their kid isn’t startled by all the movement because Ian starts going to town. The way he slams home is perfect, and makes Mickey’s mouth drop open with filthy moans and a litany of pleasure filled swear words. The opportunity presents itself and Ian snakes a hand under Mickey's belly to fist the erection straining there.

Mickey's world is perfect. He's buzzing with pleasure and it all goes crazy. His knuckles go white while he scrambles to find some purchase on the table and he bites his lip. Things are unfurling quickly, leaving him teetering on the edge of orgasm. “Harder,” he gets out between loud pants of air. When Ian complies immediately, Mickey’s whole body shakes, vibrating as all his muscles pull tight, his balls tensing. It takes one expert twist of Ian’s wrist and a well-aimed thrust to have Mickey coming with a shout, big messy ropes of come splattering onto Ian’s worktable. Ian follows suit, gripping Mickey’s hips as he too empties himself with gravely grunts and stuttering hips.

It's over way too fast but in that’s exactly how Mickey wanted it – quick, dirty and hard.

Bodies sagging forward and lungs trying to figure out how to get oxygen back into their blood stream, they both pant. Mickey becomes aware of the fact that he must have been pushing up on the balls of his feet to change the angle of his hips because an ache sets into his legs and the exhausted muscles shake. Mickey feels _fucked_. It puts a smile on his face and he snorts out a content laugh. “That was – ”

“Yeah,” Ian drawls out, trying to catch his breath. He hums happily and nudges his head against the back of Mickey’s. “Fucking good.” He keeps a grasp on Mickey’s hips to hold him still while gently slipping out of his boyfriend. “You okay?”

“Mmm hmm.” Regardless of the fact that Mickey’s fine, he hisses at the loss of Ian’s dick. When the younger man pulls out, it’s almost shocking and coming back to reality isn’t as much fun as what they were doing a moment before. “I needed that.” Shifting his body, he appreciates the way his body throbs from the way Ian handled him. He laughs, happy that Ian fucked him in ways that remind him he’s solid. Twisting in Ian’s hold, he hovers his lips over Ian’s. “Now I get to walk around for the rest of the day with your come seeping out of my ass.” He tries to sound pissed off but falls short.

“Poor thing. It must be hard for you,” Ian mocks.

“It is. It’s downright torture.” Mickey leans back against the table and lets Ian pull away from him. He feels their kid shift inside him and sends out a silent thank you over the fact that it didn’t pull that crap before Mickey came like a faucet. Now that his body is sated, Mickey’s able to focus on the Morse code the kids tapping out on his insides. He closes his eyes and holds a hand under his belly. His eyes snap open when Ian returns, a scrap of fabric in his hands. “Thanks.” Mickey takes the cloth and cleans himself enough to tuck himself back into his boxers and jeans.

"You gotta go?" Ian sounds sad as he asks. He sighs when Mickey nods his head but steps closer like his touches have the power to change the man's mind. Both of his palms land on the clothed baby bump, coasting from Mickey's belly button toward his sides and back to the middle again. "I think we woke up the kid."

"Yeah. We definitely did." Mickey lets Ian's hands repeat their movements four times before he pulls away and picks his jacket off the floor. "I hope the booty call didn't mess up your work plans."

"You didn't but," Ian smiles mischievously, "that type of booty call is worth messing up plans. Shit Mick, you're hot as hell like that."

Mickey thinks that's a real good thing because if his cravings continue to be of the sexual kind, he's glad he's got Ian's booty on lock down. He just hope Ian's going to be able to keep up with him.


	13. Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandy shows up for a while....and so does angst....

There is a new state of being for Mickey at this point in his life. He’s not sick or exhausted, but he feels tired in a different way. Emotionally, he’s been walking a tight line and it’s definitely draining. Add growing a kid to the list and Mickey’s so far out of his element that he’s in another country. He doesn’t have anything to do today and Ian’s long gone. He’d treated Mickey to a morning blow job but after letting Mickey’s hips stutter through the aftershocks of his orgasm, he was out of bed, showered, and off to work.

The silence of the apartment is welcoming because it gives Mickey the ability to wade away from the stresses that have been circulating his mind; at the same time, he feels safe enough to let himself feel them. He doesn’t have to worry about an emotion washing over his face and making Ian worry about him. Though he and Ian spoke about being honest with each other about the pregnancy, the emotions they’re feeling and the fact that they _can_ handle things, it’s still instinct for Mickey to pretend that everything can bounce off of him.

Stretching out in bed, he reaches his hands up to lace his fingers together and crack his knuckles. Letting himself shift and wake all his muscles, his hands find their way to his stomach. The kid is moving softly but it’s enough for Mickey to feel it. Sometimes, when he touches his belly like this, Mickey feels stupid. He’s not sure why but chalks it up to being a side effect of trying to stay closed off to emotions for as long as he had in his childhood. The baby squirms and Mickey smirks; the kid’s more active than Mickey feels like being at the moment. Rolling on his side, Mickey buries his face in Ian’s pillow and inhales the other man while still running his fingers over the swell protecting their kid. It’s tranquil for a while until the baby manages to snuggle up near his bladder, making Mickey curse.

Figuring he should get out of bed anyway, he drags his feet all the way to the bathroom, takes care of business and then stumbles into the shower. Cold water would do a better job of waking him up but he’s not in a rush so he allows himself the luxury of standing under the hot spray from the shower.

Under the noise of the shower, Mickey’s ears pick up the sound of his phone ringing. It silences once it goes to voicemail, but the ringing starts up again. There is silence for sixty seconds before the ringtone filters into the bathroom again.

That never translates to a good sign. “Fuck,” Mickey mutters as he actually gets to work lathering his hair and body, rinsing and turning the taps off so he can towel dry before slinging the towel around his waist. The towel is dangerously close to falling off, given the fact that it’s draped under his belly and barely holding on to his hips.

He reaches his phone, flipping it on to see that he’s missed three calls from Mandy just in time for the phone to come to life again and alert him of another incoming call from his sister. “What?” he snaps when he presses the phone to his ear.

Unfazed, Mandy barrels straight ahead. “ _Hey, you home?_ ”

“Yeah. Why?” Mickey raises an eyebrow.

“ _Good. Open your fucking door._ ”

This time, Mickey’s eyes widen with his brows. “Excuse me?”

“ _Come on, dick breath. I’ve been pacing around in front of your apartment door for ten minutes and I have to pee like a race horse._ ”

None of what his sister is saying makes sense. Mandy lives a good ten hours away, getting her shit together the same way Ian and Mickey have been trying to. Mickey wishes she was closer, though he doesn’t give her the satisfaction of saying that out loud. But Mandy doesn’t live closer, which is exactly why he never expects her to be popping in out of the blue. “You’re _what_?” Mickey says dumbly.

“ _Outside your damn door. Come on or I am going to pee right here and you’ll have to step on it every time you leave the house._ ” To prove her point, there is a knock on the door.

On autopilot, Mickey tosses the phone on the bed and moves to do as his sister demanded. Because she caught him off guard, he completely ignores the fact that he’s in nothing but a towel. He and Mandy have their fair share of the sibling phenomenon of catching each other in various stages of undress. It’s not the first time they navigated themselves around each other wearing only a towel. What Mickey’s forgetting is his distended middle. “Mandy, what the fuck?” he asks as he pulls the door open.

“Finallllly,” Mandy drawls out as she dashes inside the apartment. She makes a bee line for the bathroom, spinning on her heels just before she reaches it and letting her jaw drop when she bothers to allow the visual of her brother to hit her brain. “Holy shit, Mick! Your belly.” She’s got her legs crossed, aiding her attempt to keep from peeing her pants but it doesn’t look like it’s helping much because she abandons saying more and ducks into the bathroom.

“Shit,” Mickey curses under his breath. He takes the time his sister is preoccupied to tug on a pair of boxers and a clean t-shirt. He’s just about done stepping into a pair of his paternity jeans when Mandy reappears, wiping her freshly washed hands on the thighs of her jeans. She’s shaking her head slowly, an odd smirk curving her lips just enough to be noticeable. Zipping his jeans and narrowing his eyes at her, Mickey asks, “what?”

“You’re pregnant,” she says like she has just started believing the words.

“Yeah. I fucking know that.” Mickey’s tongue is thick as he snips back at his sister. “What, you suffer a brain injury of somethin’? That why you’re here?”

“No…I mean…like…you’re _pregnant_.” She makes a gesture near her stomach to indicate the size of Mickey’s middle. “I knew you were pregnant but, shit Mickey. You’re my brother. The one who threatened to kill Ian Gallagher, and now you’re having a fucking baby with him. And you’re _pregnant_.” She makes the same gesture about Mickey’s belly again.

Mickey snorts. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Mandy rolls her eyes at him and scoffs. “I’m just saying that it’s one thing to _know_ you’re pregnant. It’s another thing to see it. It’s fucking weird.”

“It’s weird for _you_? Try carrying the kid around inside of you.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Mickey turns to face her straight on. Something is transmitted between them. Mickey’s seen it before with Ian and his siblings. It doesn’t happen much between Mickey and his brothers, but with Mandy things are a little different. They start laughing and Mandy rushes towards him, her arms looping around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

“I missed you, asshole.” She hugs him righter, squeezing him and adding a sound effect for extra measure. “God, it’s so good to see you,” Mandy waits a beat before finishing, “even though it’s weird that kid is making you fat.”

Mickey smacks the back of her head but it’s all for show. He pulls her a little closer, their chins fitting over each other’s shoulders. There is a hang-up in their closeness as Mickey’s belly gets in the way. “Say another word about my stomach and I’ll kick your ass,” Mickey warns.

“Got it.” Mandy doesn’t let go, lingering in the hug despite enough time passing to remind her she’s supposed to let go.

That alarms Mickey. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I am. Really.” Mandy nods into Mickey’s shoulder and then pulls back. “It’s just _really_ good to see you and…I knew you were pregnant and seeing it makes me feel like a crap sister for not checking in on you to make sure you’re okay and shit.” Her hands find Mickey’s belly all on their own before her brother has a chance to push them away. She looks like she didn’t intend for that to happen and both siblings are frozen for a moment.

Other than Ian and Katie, no one has touched his pregnant stomach before. It’s not bad, exactly; it’s _different._ Mickey decides to let her hands stay there and tilts his head down to watch Mandy coast them from one side of the swell to the other. Not moving his head, Mickey eyes roll up, catching Mandy’s gaze on the way. “I don’t need you checkin’ up on me.”

“I know you don’t. That’s not what I meant, dick. I know you’ve got this. I just meant…like…I should have checked in to see if you killed Ian or needed to vent or something.” She smiles as she shakes her head.

Mickey does know what she means, but it hurts less to brush it off like he doesn’t. Now that his sister is here, it feels good to have someone who knows him; Mandy’s second to Ian. “Kid’s growin’.”

“Yeah. I can tell.” Mandy smiles softly this time and nods. She presses a palm flat to Mickey’s belly and the moment she feels movement from within she pulls her hand away like she’s been burned rather than startled. “Woah.”

“It does that.” Mickey laughs.

“It?”

“Yeah. I don’t really wanna know that there is a little dick or pussy growing inside of me. I’m good with knowing it’s a baby.” Mickey steps back, running a hand over his middle to smooth his shirt out. He gets a look at his sister and comes back to himself. “What are you doing here, Mandy?”

Mandy fidgets, pushing one foot up on her tiptoes and then rotates her ankle. She bites her lip and shrugs. “It’s stupid really. Just stupid stuff I did when I lived in Chicago. I tried to get a new job out by me, a better paying one. But I’ve got these stupid fines I gotta pay and H.R. doesn’t wanna put me on the payroll till I settle my debt. I was hoping I could shake ‘em down for a lesser fee if I came in person. I think maybe it was a stupid plan now that I’m here but I wanted to surprise you and Ian by popping in for a day or two since it wasn’t too hard to make a detour.”

“You going back to South Side?”

“Yeah, just for a day or two. You wouldn’t wanna come with me, would you?” She gives an exaggerated pleading face.

“Fuck no.”

“Aww, come on. We could have some sibling bonding. It’s been too long.” She knocks her shoulder into Mickey’s and pulls the face again.

“Too long since I’ve been to South Side? Yeah…I don’t think so.” Rocking back on his heels, Mickey pinches his brows. “I’m good here, Mands. Ian and I go every once and a while to see his family and that’s bordering on being there too much. We got out for a reason, remember? You did too.”

“Yeah, I know. I just miss your ass. Good knows why.” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “I miss Ian too.”

“The truth comes out,” Mickey teases. “Shit, you don’t miss me. You have to say that because I’m dating Ian and we’re kind of a two-for-one.”

“Obviously,” Mandy says while directing her gaze towards her brother’s middle. “Where is Ian anyway?”

“Work. Like most people.”

“You’re not at work,” Mandy quips.

“No clients today. I thought I’d spend the day doing all whole bunch of nothing, but now I’ve got to entertain your ass.” Mickey cracks a smile to let on that he doesn’t mind. “You hungry? I was going to make some pancakes.”

The nostalgia hits Mandy and she nods. “Starving.”

“Yeah, me too. All the time,” Mickey elaborates.

They make small talk while Mickey cooks, but it’s the type of things that are on the surface of their lives. It isn’t until they sit down and Mickey has a mouthful of pancake that Mandy gets to something deeper.

“How you doing, Mick?” Mandy asks while stabbing a piece of pancake with her fork. “And I don’t mean your bullshit stock answer. How are _really_ doing?”

Mickey’s stuck because he’s sure as hell not walking away from his breakfast and there is only so many feet he can but between him and his sister in the cramped space of the apartment. “I’m okay. Really. I wasn’t so sure for a while, but Ian and I are figuring this out. We’re doing good. And the kid? That thing is resilient. It doesn’t let Ian or I forget about it. It’s always moving and trying to get my attention. Doctor says it’s doing real good.” The tiny smile on Mickey’s lips is real but it only stays for a moment before he inhales another section of pancake.

“But…like...you and Ian don’t have anything, you know?” Mandy makes a show of scanning the apartment. “You two don’t have any baby shit.”

It feels like an accusation more than an observation. Mickey shrugs. “We’re not dealing with that right now. Because…we just don’t _know_. I mean…we just wanna handle getting through me being pregnant. We don’t know what we’re going to do with the kid. I…” He pauses because he’s pretty sure what he just said is an epic shop of how much growing up his and Ian’s decision making skills need to do. Ignorance may be bliss but it isn’t a responsible way to deal with problems. “We’re just not doing all _that_. At least not now. So…yeah.” He digs back into his breakfast, ignoring his sister’s eyes.

Mandy gets the point. She sits back in her chair, holding a cup of coffee with two hands as she takes slow sips.

“You shaking up here for a few days?” Mickey asks. “We’ve only got the futon but you’re welcome to crash.”

“You two fuck on it lately?”

“Define lately,” Mickey can go toe to toe with Mandy’s snark. And just like that, things slip back into feeling normal again. Their conversation touches on his pregnancy every now and then but for the most part, he and Mandy are filling themselves in on the other parts of their lives.

Hours pass. They share another meal and stories that make Mickey miss Mandy even more. They watch movies they’ve seen enough times that they don’t need to pay attention to the screen. Mickey purposely keeps Ian in the dark about Mandy’s arrival, answering the other man’s inquiries about how his day is going with basic responses. So when Ian walks in the door, he’s almost tackled to the floor but not by the Milkovich he would have expected.

“Mandy!?” Ian shouts, allowing himself to give an open mouthed grin before wrapping his arms around her. “What the fuck are you doing here? Shit, it’s so good to see you.” Squeezing her tighter, he swings her around in a circle. When she’s safely on the ground again, Ian turns his smile towards Mickey. “You asshole, you knew she was coming?”

Mickey shakes his head. “No. She sprung it on me this morning.”

Releasing Mandy, Ian closes the gap between him and Mickey, reaches out a hand and pulls the collar of Mickey’s t-shirt so that he gets close enough to kiss him on the cheek. “Then you’re an asshole for not telling me she’s been her for six hours.”

“Not an asshole, but I figured you deserved to be as surprised as I was when she showed up on the doorstep.” Mickey runs a thumb over the knuckles of the fist Ian still has clenched around his t-shirt.

Ian twists to look at his friend. “Not that I’m complaining, but what the hell Mandy? What are you doing here?”

Mandy shrugs playfully. “Heard you knocked up my brother. Figured I’d see if you were going to make an honest man out of him.”

Mickey chokes on the snort he tries to give. “Fuck that. I’d say were both a long way off from getting away with anyone believing that” He cocks his head at Ian, eliciting an amused laugh of agreement from the man. His sister is obviously busting their balls. Still, Mandy always does that. She picks at scabs and even though she’s teasing, she hits things that are tender and raw. He and Ian are family. They don’t need a label or something legal to prove that to anyone. Thankfully, Ian distracts his mind from the train of thought it is riding by asking, “You staying for a while, Mands?”

“For a day or two,” she answers. “I gotta be in Chicago by Friday. So – ”

Ian cuts her off. “You going to Chicago?”

Answering for his sister, Mickey snorts. “Yeah, she wants us to come with her.” He says the words thinking that Ian will mirror the initial reaction Mickey had when Mandy first asked him to come with her. But Ian’s facial expression shifts and he gives that stupid grin that lets Mickey know he doesn’t stand a chance against what Ian’s going to attempt to convince him of. Despite knowing, Mickey still tries to mount a defense. “Ian…no. Come on…”

“It’s just for a day, Mick. Right, Mandy?” Ian grabs Mandy, as if keeping her nodding bobble head by his side is going to help him plead his case.

“Yeah, just a day. Then I gotta head home.”

“Well, that works, Mick. You’ve got an appointment with Katie on Saturday. So we’ll be back in time. I know my family is a part of the reason we’re living here but they’re still my family. That’s why we moved here instead of four states west – so that we get to see them on our terms. We haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Yeah, great, I get to show up sporting this thing,” Mickey gestures towards his middle, “and hope that it goes over well.”

“Come on, Mick. It’s just my family. Fiona and Lip already know. I’m sure they’ve told the rest of them. So it’ll be old news.” Ian’s smile slices into Mickey. “It’ll be fun. Road trip with Mandy and all.”

The way that Ian has of making things seem simple amazes Mickey sometimes. Maybe it’s why they got into messes in the past but Ian’s refined the ability, it’s mostly directed at things that deserve to be simple. Letting out a huge sigh, Mickey chews the inside of his cheek before he relents. “Fine. But my pregnant ass isn’t cramming itself into your childhood bedroom. We visit Fiona and haul ourselves back home. Clear?” Mickey gives the two conspirators a glare and repeats, “clear?”

“Crystal. Got it.” Ian says, ignoring the whine of protest Mickey gives him when he gives a lightning fast kiss to his lips.

Mickey wants to make a comment about Ian owing him, but that’s not how they play anymore. Mickey’s not going to Chicago out of obligation or because he expects Ian to return the favor in some way or another. He’s going because _maybe_ it will be fun. It has been a long time and Gallagher home turf is a safe zone – mostly. At least there are plenty of good memories there. Plenty of bad ones too but those are worth not forgetting. He’s pretty sure these emotions wash over his face so Mickey covers them up by curling his lip and shoving Ian away. “Go shower. You fucking reek of polyurethane.”

Ian waggles his eyebrows. “Wanna join me?”

“Eww, gross. Can’t you just _not_ for a minute.” Shaking her head, Mandy turns and walks away from the two men, her reaction making it all the more tempting for Mickey to take Ian up on his offer. He can kill two birds with one stone: get off with his boyfriend in the shower while simultaneously scarring his sister.

Yeah, he’s going to have to take that offer.

***

Ian looks over his shoulder at the mass of blankets on the futon. He wonders how Mandy can breathe under all of them but figures letting her drown out the light that way is better than forcing her to be a productive member of their morning. Mickey’s already up and dressed, digging none to quietly through a tool box he keeps tucked in the closet. At least Ian’s trying to avoid making noise as he slaps together sandwiches with left over chicken from the night before. He throws them in bags and goes to join his boyfriend. “You’re going to wake your sister,” he warns.  

“Too late,” a muffled voice says from under the blankets. She pulls the blankets down enough to glare at Mickey. “Fucker kept me up half of the night stomping back and forth to the bathroom.”

Mickey throws Mandy the finger, holding it out in her direction for an elongated pause. “You wanna carry this thing around? Go right ahead. Kid likes using my bladder for a pillow.” Snorting, he slams the tool box shut. “I found what I was looking for. Go back to your beauty sleep, princess.”

“I hate you.” Mandy gives an exasperated sigh and flops back to the futon, pulling the blankets around her and twisting so that she’s facing the backrest.

“You know, sometimes I think she means it,” Ian teases as he drops a sandwich into Mickeys hand. “You working all day?”

“Nah, just until three. You going to stay here and entertain her royal highness?”

Ian laughs. “For a little while. I gotta go in later to get some stuff done with Jason. Get him familiarized with some of my suppliers and show him what needs to be done. But I’m not staying there long.”

“I’ll see you when I get home then,” Mickey says, pulling Ian close enough to gaze his lips with a kiss.

Ian’s heart flitters. He reaches out a hand to prevent Mickey from stepping away just yet. They’re not quite kissing, but they’re keeping their faces close enough to keep that as a possibility. Using his free hand, Ian’s fingers curl around the swell in Mickey’s middle. They don’t rely on the words too often but Ian feels the need to let them bubble out of his mouth right now. “Love you,” he says in a hushed tone meant to hit Mickey square in the chest. His fingers twitch to get a better hold on Mickey’s belly while he licks his lips and locks eyes with the other man. It’s hard to keep the reins tight on the emotions smacking into him. The morning is the same as so many others. Mickey’s just going to work. But sometimes there are cracks in their days that make it harder to Ian to keep things level. The kid is shifting against his palm and Mickey’s eyes are so damn blue that Ian’s dizzy. “Fuck, I love you,” he mumbles again and isn’t sure who the words are directed at. He thinks probably both Mickey and their kid.

Mickey senses the shift in Ian immediately, maybe even before Ian noticed. “Hey,” he says to distract Ian’s brain enough and coax him to focus. “Love you too.” The words are heavy and genuine, but as soon as he says them, Mickey’s eyes flicker towards the Mandy shaped blanket and he drags his teeth over his lower lip. Clearing his throat, he adds, “It’s just a few hours. I’ll be fine.” He pauses. “ _You’ll be fine_.” Smirking, he lightens the moment by teasing Ian. “Just don’t have too much fun with Jason that you forget to get your ass back home.”

The fact that Mickey’s making a joke about Jason seems like progress to Ian and he allows himself to laugh. It’s a much better situation than the hormonal induced jealousy from a few days ago. “I’ll tell Jason you say ‘hi’.”

Unenthused, Mickey says, “Yeah, you do that.” Finished with gathering his stuff, he makes a move to leave. “Listen, I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?” They share a nod and then he’s out the door.

That leaves Ian to the rest of his morning rituals. He’s not sure if Mandy has gone back to sleep or not, but he goes with a hunch and brews a pot of coffee. He stares at it while it’s brewing, which somehow manages to make the whole process go slower. There are whirling thoughts about the safety he feels in loving Mickey. It wasn’t always like that; it used to be too unsteady, exhausting like tight rope walking.  Now he feels grounded by it. The newer revelation that he loves his kid, however, is a little bit of both. It feels warm when the thought floats around inside of him but it’s also a bit dangerous, just like he’s walking the tight rope again. As soon as the last drip of coffee _finally_ finishes filling the pot, Ian snags two mugs from the drying rack and fills them practically to the brim. Grabbing one in each hand, he makes his way to the futon, sitting down at the edge where Mandy’s feet have curled up enough to leave room for him. A hand pops out from the blanket and makes grabbing motions. Laughing, Ian helps Mandy get a hold on the handle of one mug. “Careful. It’s gonna spill.”

There is a grumble that sounds like it might be a complaint but eventually Mandy emerges from the blanket, hair tussled and eyes squinting as the morning light forces the sleep away. She manages to keep from spilling her coffee as she crosses her legs and takes a tentative sip. “Fucking hot!”

“Yeah, it’s coffee.” Ian shakes his head and laughs. Mandy is scowling at him over the rim of her coffee cup as she sips carefully. The moment feels easy. It’s nice falling back into these roles with Mandy. He’s been consumed with his and Mickey’s world for the last weeks that he forgot how much he missed his friend. Fuck that, she’s more than a friend. She’s closer than a lot of his family and admitting that almost feels like sacrilege. They sit there in a comfortable silence and sip their coffee, both of their hands hugging the mugs a little too firmly to absorb the warmth the coffee provides.

It’s Mandy who breaks the silence. “You doing okay?”

“Complicated question.” Ian shifts so he can turn towards her. “Normally I’m okay. Sometimes I get a little hazy around the edges. Like…I’m taking my pills and everything. Going to the doctor. Keeping things in check. But the baby thing seems to have shaken up everything inside of me. And I don’t know if I’m scared or happy.”

“Why not both?”

“I guess I’m both. Is it weird that I’m both?”

Mandy shakes her head. “Nah. It’s weird that you knocked up my brother. That’s fucking weird. I mean…his belly…”

“Yeah. I know.” Ian smirks. The thought stirs up that warm feeling again.

“It’s not weird that you – or Mickey – might be happy about it. You two are the most ridiculous co-dependent thing on earth. Probably makes sense that fate finally figured out how to work a kid into the equation. It’s not weird to kinda be…I dunno…thrilled by that. But…I get the scared part. I’ve been there. It’s fucking different circumstances but I think I understand still.” She takes a long drink of coffee and sets the mug on her knee.

“Mickey and I…we’re good. Living here is good. I’m stable. _We’re stable_. It seems irresponsible to keep the kid. That’s a huge decision. And I am not saddling my kid with the life I had. Sure, we made the best of it and have great memories but the hardships were too hard.”

“You’re not your mother. And you’re _definitely_ not your father. Same for Mickey. It’s still scary as hell but you don’t have to worry about those parts.”

Ian swallows. He appreciates Mandy’s words but he’s still worried about those things. He doesn’t want to be either of his parents because neither of them have a good track record. He must have withdrawn into himself enough to have let a blank expression wash over his face because Mandy shakes him.

“Oh my god, what is it with you two,” Mandy says with a giant roll of her eyes. “Do you know you’re walking around telling me almost matching versions of your thoughts? I’ll tell you what I told him. I think you can handle it. I don’t really know how this bi-polar thing works...not all the details, but you seem dedicated to dealing with it now. I think you’ll figure out how to be a dad who happens to also be bi-polar. Mickey will figure things out too.”

Ian snorts a laugh, “yeah, Mickey told me you hope the baby looks like me.”

“Well, yeah,” is all Mandy offers as a type of explanation.

“Wouldn’t be so bad the other way around,” Ian muses, taking a sip from his coffee. It definitely wouldn’t be a bad thing to have this little being whose jumbled DNA causes resemblance to Mickey. Or both of them. It makes Ian’s lips curve on their own. “Would be pretty good the other way around.”

Mandy stretches out a leg and playfully kicks Ian in the middle. “See, you two are fucking ridiculous.” She gets up and pads towards the coffee machine to refill her cup. “You’re working today?”

“Just for a bit.” Ian flicks his eyes towards the clock on the microwave. “Should have probably left already.” He turns to Mandy, who has resumed her cross-legged position next to him. “I’ll be back early enough to bring lunch home. Feel free to make yourself at home. Watch something on television. Take a shower.” He gets to his feet and presses a kiss to the top of Mandy’s head.

“Yeah, whatever. Leave me here to go be a respectable member of the working force.” But her smile betrays her and Ian takes her words as an “I’ll miss you.”

The rest of the morning goes fast. Ian doesn’t have any stops to make before he gets to the warehouse, and he pulls up just as Jason is getting there.

Jason, thankfully, is a quick learner.

He absorbs everything Ian has to say and even makes a suggestion of how they could cut some cost by using the spare parts of the workshop to store wood if they order in larger about to get a better bulk pricing. With Jason helping out, it’s actually possible to keep ahead of orders by using newfound downtime to work on crafting key parts that Ian needs for practically every piece of furniture.

Ian likes Jason. He was right to trust his gut on hiring him. They jive well together and he seems able to keep up with Ian’s quick train of thought. Ian know that sometimes he rambles, his brain getting away from him and going off a different tangent before returning to the original idea. Jason goes with it; he follows along and can jump around just as quick as Ian.

This partnership is going to work out.

Ian feels comfortable enough with Jason to finally commit to leaving things in his hands while he, Mickey and Mandy take off to Chicago. They both jump in Ian’s truck to deliver a curio cabinet, and the first thing Ian appreciates about having a helper is that loading furniture is infinitely easier.

The delivery goes off without a hitch. On the way back, Ian and Jason swing by to pick up some supplies. It gives Ian a chance to introduce Jason to his suppliers and gauge is Jason really knows what he’s doing. The man passes the test when he immediately points his direction towards the exact materials that complement the aesthetic of Ian’s designs.

Their time spent in the truck served to acquaint them further. Jason opens up easily, telling stories about his wife, Naomi, and daughter, bubbling with pride over the fact that the little girl, Jayda, seems to have figured out how to use the vocalization of “dada” to her advantage. Jason gets a laugh out of Ian when he lapses into stories of the repeated times Naomi has tried to get Jayda to say “mama” and only gets a big fat “dada” babbled at her.

Ian stops laughing when Jason turns to him and asks, “So, you and Mickey…when’s the baby due?”

They’re both stuck in the car with miles to go yet; Ian can’t avoid the subject. “June 2nd,” he says quickly.

“Oh wow. You guys are more than halfway there.” Jason smiles. “Boy or girl?”

Ian knows Jason’s just trying to make small talk. These are things people talk about. Usually, these are the surface things, the safe things. Anyone can talk about the weather or their kids. But it makes Ian feel uncomfortable because he’s talking about a kid that might not be around in a few months. “Uhh, we don’t know.”

Jason seems to pick up on the change in the atmosphere between them. “Man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry. I just…you know…this time was all really exciting for me. I’m just remembering when I found out Naomi was pregnant. We freaked the fuck out! But then we found out it was a girl and we were still scared as hell but suddenly is was our _daughter_ , you know? Like…she was ours and it’s been hell’a hard ever since but I wouldn’t trade that little pooping machine for the world.”

Ian’s not sure what to say to that so he nods to indicate he’s heard.

“You and Mickey are none of my business,” Jason concludes with, his words sounding more like an apology.

“Nah, it’s not that,” Ian says, feeling bad. “It’s just…complicated. Mickey and I are _always_ complicated but we’re good now. Great.” He stops at a red light and turns to Jason. “We didn’t plan on having a baby and…”

“You don’t know if you’re keeping it,” Jason deduces from the tone of Ian’s voice and the hesitation before each word.

“Yeah. We’re keeping our options open. So, we don’t know if it is a boy or a girl because we don’t want to get more attached right now. And we’re just figuring it out.” Ian shrugs before turning back to the road when the light turns green. “I’m letting you know because I didn’t want you to feel like you mis-stepped. You didn’t say anything wrong. Besides, you should probably know because I might have to leave things in your hands for a few weeks when the kid comes.”

“Say no more. I got it. Jason makes a gesture with his palms, opening them towards the roof of the car. “You guys got time to figure it out still.”

“You think?” Ian asks. He realizes his voice sounds exactly like he feels, like he’s looking for reassurance.

“Absolutely. Naomi and I had no idea what we were doing. All we had when we brought Jayda home was a bunch of clothing and a bouncer. We were complete novices. We figured it out pretty quick and our friends helped out but it’s a good thing babies don’t need much more than bottles, formula, clothing, and a place to sleep when they’re newborns.” Reaching out, he pats Ian on the shoulder. “You’re good. Whatever you do. And I think I can handle things at the workshop. I mean, I’m going to have a few months practice working alongside you, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll see how it goes.” Ian lets out a deep breath, relaxing more now that Jason is clued in to his and Mickey’s situation. “Hey, speaking of handling things at the shop. You think you would be okay picking up those supplies we ordered and sanding down the two pieces of mahogany we’ve got set up?”

Jason’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah. Mickey’s sister’s in town for a few days and we were thinking of driving back home to Chicago for a day. I know it’s last minute. But I think you can handle it if you want to. No pressure. But we could think of it as a little trial by fire.”

“Yeah! I mean, yes. I’m good. You sure you trust me?” Jason looks thoroughly thrilled by the new responsibility.

“Yeah. But you fuck up those two pieces of wood and they’re coming out of your salary.” It’s a warning more than a threat and Ian gives Jason an open mouthed laugh as they pull in front of the workshop.

“Man, I haven’t fucked up a piece of wood that pretty since I was in 8th grade shop class. It would be a crime to do anything to that mahogany. I think I can handle it.” Jason hopes out of the truck. “Besides, I need that paycheck to keep Jayda diapered and her mama happy.”

The phrase is meant as a joke but there is sincerity behind it that makes any anxiety Ian’s feeling over leaving for a couple of says settle. It doesn’t hurt Ian’s opinion of Jason that the man is so blatantly devoted to his wife and daughter. If anything, there is a flint of hope there. It’s faint but it’s existence alone is enough for the time being.

***

Going to Katie’s clinic with Mandy wasn’t Mickey’s idea.

It feels a little too personal and a little like he’s playing with fire. He’s letting Mandy get awfully close to the situation.

But somehow Mandy managed to weasel herself along, just like she always gets herself into any situation.

Mickey shifts in the driver’s seat, tugging the seatbelt so that it doesn’t cut across his belly so much. He fails to keep it loose enough so he gives up and slides his hand under the belt and holds his palm against his belly. That feels more comforting than the dig of the strap.

For whatever complaint he gave over going to Chicago for a day, he shouldn’t have worried. There was the usual hijinks but, for the most part, Mickey’s belly wasn’t a news flash. Mandy got what she came for and cleared up her fines while he and Ian were able to fill their Gallagher quota for the season.

Then they were on their way back to his and Ian’s apartment, both he and Mandy asleep in the back while Ian drove. Mickey hated to admit it but being pregnant was zapping his energy. He didn’t even try to put up a fight when Ian volunteered to drive, he simply crawled into the back seat and fell asleep before they were even three streets away from the Gallagher household.

Now Ian’s trying to keep himself awake because he was up all night driving and got so caught up with their day that he uncharacteristically skipped his meds. It’s leaving him off enough that Mickey can notice and he wonders if Mandy can too. She probably can but she’s playing it like Mickey, waiting and watching while things play out.

Katie is waiting for them when they walk in, her eyebrows knitting and her head pulling back as she notices Mandy. “Hey, is it a party?”

“This is my sister. She’s been a bitch about coming,” Mickey says as he walks past Katie and makes his way towards the exam room he’s become increasingly familiar with.

“Who pissed in his cornflakes this morning,” Katie asks Ian, but his only responses are an eye roll and shrug.

“He’s a fucking ray of sunshine isn’t he?” Mandy asks. “I’m Mandy.”

“He kinda grows on you though,” Katie says, voice light. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Fretto.” She makes a gesture towards Mickey’s retreating form and Ian. “But these two just call me Katie.” Waving them towards where Mickey just went, she adds, “Might as well get things started. Mickey barely tolerates me being at his appointments, I’m surprised you managed to convince him that you can come.”

“Didn’t really convince him. Just forced my way along. I want proof that the kid’s doing okay so I can use it as ammunition the next time he tells me he’s a fuck up,” Mandy unapologetically states. “I’m just a silent observer. Promise.” She crosses her heart with her index finger and follows her brother.

Mickey has already seated himself on the exam table when the rest of the troops join him. He’s getting fidgety, which he figured would happen. He can’t help it. For as much as he is comfortable with Katie, he still feels the tingling discomfort of being exposed when he is in her office. After all, he is exposed on so many levels. She’s seen through him and in him and probably knows more about how his body works than he does himself.

Thankfully, she quits the small chat with Mandy and gets straight to the nitty-gritty details of the appointment. With purposely annoying enthusiasm, Katie grins around the words, “welcome to your third trimester!”

Laying back as he is told, Mickey grumbles, “fan-fucking-tastic.” When Katie presses an exploratory hand to his middle, he flinches.

Katie picks up on it immediately, pulling back and giving Mickey an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I just…” She pauses and screws her face up. “Let’s start again. Okay? I know you haven’t been so thrilled by some of the things going on with your body to get you to the third trimester, but, all joking aside, this is good. You got this far without any issues, so to speak. So it’s good news, Mickey.”

Licking his lips, Mickey nods. His eyes search out Ian, finding his silent partner across the room, arms crossed and standing like he’s holding up the wall. That fact is probably Mickey’s fault. Mickey hasn’t been in the best of moods this morning; coupling that fact with Ian’s current state and worry starts to bubble under the surface. When he and Ian are both off, it usually gets messier than they’d like. If Ian took a few steps closer, that would feel better but Mickey had been prickly as hell this morning, it’s no wonder Ian’s letting Mickey call the shots. Problem is, Mickey’s also waiting for something to happen.  He licks his lips again and looks conflicted when he meets Katie’s eyes.

Mistaking his confliction for being about the exam, Katie holds out a hand, moving it slowly towards Mickey. “I just want to feel what’s going on inside. Okay? And I want to take some measurements. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. Okay?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“You know, for most people, this part doesn’t suck. This is an easy appointment,” Katie snorts, pushing back against Mickey’s attitude just enough. She puts her hands on him with exploratory movement. The kid makes itself known at the touch of her hands and squirms away from her. “Seems like the baby is about as thrilled to be here as you are.”

Mickey’s already cheering the kid on before he realizes what he’s doing. Damn straight the kid doesn’t like doctors’ appointments. “Kid moves a lot when someone touches my stomach.”

“Yeah. You’ve hit the point where the baby is sensitive to outside touch.” Katie keeps her hands on Mickey but turns her head over her shoulder towards Ian. “You notice that?” Ian’s ears flush pink for a quick second over his display of affection being found out and he gives Katie the answer she’s looking for. “Thought so.” She smirks but the expression changes a bit once she’s grabbed the measuring tape and measured Mickey’s exposed belly from pelvis to middle.

“What?” Ian and Mickey ask the doctor at the same time.

“Nothing, I think. You’re measuring kinda small. But you’ve always been small. It happens a lot when the muscle over here,” Katie swipes a hand across this distended part of Mickey’s stomach, “doesn’t want to give. It keeps the baby nice and snug for a little while yet. Doesn’t hurt the baby but probably makes you feel a little added pressure.”

“This is _small_?” Mickey accuses with a raise of his eyebrows. There is no way his belly is _small_. It’s _big_. He can’t wear a lot of his usual shirts without them looking obscene and if it wasn’t for his paternity jeans, he’d be walking around in boxer shorts.

“Well, maybe this feels big to you, but statistically, you’re running below average. I’m not worried, but I want to do some tests to make sure. Nothing too invasive. Just a quick blood sample and a swab inside,” she cuts herself off and bites her lower lip. “Okay…well, maybe a little invasive. But I’ll kick your sister out for that. She can stay for the other part though. I wasn’t planning on an ultrasound but I want to double check that the baby is a good size for its gestation.”

There is no use in fighting or even complaining. He and Katie both know that he is going to give in eventually and that Katie is just doing her job. He submits to the blood test and she boots up the ultrasound cart. This time, Ian does get a little closer and Mickey takes the opportunity to dangle his hand out so that is brushes against Ian’s leg. It’s a tiny touch but it’s enough to have Ian giving him a reassuring look.

There is gel on Mickey’s belly and pressure as the transducer glides across his skin and then there is the kid, all made up in black and white static on the ultrasound screen. The baby has lost most of the alien characteristics that Mickey has come to know. It looks like a miniature version of a human baby, curled up and content.

“Shit,” Mickey says loudly enough to draw everyone’s eyes to him. He can’t help it. The kid looks like…a kid. He feels his heart thump faster and swallows thickly.

Laughing to herself, Katie clicks away, measuring the baby and searching out different angles. “Just what I thought. Baby looks good, not small at all. You’re going to have a little bruiser there if this little one keeps growing like it’s been.” She smiles and turns towards the crowd, all eyes on the screen.

They’re all watching when the baby shifts and stretches, it’s silhouette straining in the obvious process of a yawn.

Mandy’s on her feet, finger point accusatorially at the screen. “Holy, fuck. Did it just yawn?”

“Yeah. They do that. They do a lot of things that adults do.” Turning to face Mandy, Katie smiles. “I guess it just looks kinda weird in utero. But yeah, fetuses can yawn.”

“Holy shit, Mick.” Mandy looks at her brother this time, her eyes wide and bright. “That’s so cool. Your kid yawned…and it’s like…it’s…shit.” She looks a bit dopey trying to find the words. “My niece or nephew yawned.”

The words hit Mickey’s ears and he feels like he’s going to vomit. It’s not just Mandy’s sudden decision to call the kid her niece or nephew. It’s everything. It’s the fact that this alien inside of him isn’t really an alien anymore. It’s human and it can yawn. And Mickey hates the fact that thinking about the baby yawning is making him want to yawn, in the ridiculous stream of believing that yawning is contagious. Mickey feels a freak out coming on; it’s bubbling there and he’s dizzy. He keeps laying on the exam table because he’ll fall if he tries to stand, making him hate himself more for being so damn weak that the kid yawning has him falling apart.

The icing on the cake is Ian, who has backed up against the wall again, swallowing air like it’s not getting to his lungs and he’s borderline drowning. Mickey sees what’s happening, knowing things are hitting the redhead harder. Ian’s been strong as hell for everything, but the fissure he saw beginning to form is widening, like the kids yawn.

Things just got messier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the most difficult time with this chapter. I don't know why. I really don't love it. I already wrote the next chapter and have to fix it but this one just gave me trouble. Please tell me it isn't terrible. I am feeling unsure about it.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	14. Intersect

Mickey hasn’t lied to Ian in a long time but the lie slipped out his mouth easily this morning. He leaves Ian in bed, sliding out from under the blankets and giving Ian’s mumbled questioning a simple answer.

It was really easy, actually.

Mandy took off shortly after Mickey’s appointment with Katie, grabbing an awkwardly silent lunch with both Mickey and Ian before she hit the road to return home. She left with hugs and promises of a return trip.

Once she was gone, it was like the bandage that was holding their façade together was removed and Mickey and Ian didn’t know what to do with themselves. They’d gone quiet, the type of quiet that never sits well with either of them.

When they went to bed, it was with more silence, but there was comfort in the fact that Ian managed to tangle them both together in their sleep so that they woke with interlaced arms and legs. They’re silent until Mickey untangles himself and when Ian asks him where he is going, Mickey lies.

He says he has work.

That’s complete bullshit, but Ian doesn’t know that. It’s a feasible lie.

Instead, Mickey’s out of the house as fast as he can go. He didn’t waste time with breakfast at home, which he regrets the moment his mouth starts watering in that sickeningly nauseous way and his belly is grumbling. He stops at a McDonalds to put some food in it so that the kid gives him a break and he doesn’t actually throw up. Sitting in the parking lot, he wonders why he evaded the truth in the first place. It’s not like he’s doing anything scandalous but he feels nervous enough about it that his first instinct was to cover up all tracks of the truth.

Swallowing his last bite of sandwich, he eases his car back onto the road and practically drives on autopilot to a location he’s becoming increasingly familiar with. When he pulls up in front of Katie’s house and the office attached to it, he barely has the car in park before he decides to throw it in drive again and start the process of turning around.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” he scolds himself. Taking a deep inhale, he straightens his spine and resumes parking the car. Once out of it, he’s back to second guessing himself. The office windows look dark. Though he doesn’t have an appointment, Katie told him more than once that he is welcome to come to her for whatever he needs, even if it is just to talk about thing. After the stifled panic attack Mickey felt boiling over yesterday, Mickey is man enough to realize that he needs help. Ian’s drowning and Mickey feels like they’re going to end up going down together.

Walking up to the office door, Mickey tries the knob. It’s locked, like he assumed, but he knocks. After silence, he tries again. “Shit,” he curses under his breath and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not quite sure what to do with himself now. His plan only went as far as getting him to the office and going inside. Since his end goal isn’t going to work, he scrambles to find an alternative. A thought hits him when his eyes catch on the walkway leading to the adjoining house. “Fuck it.” Blowing out a breath, Mickey pivots on his heels and heads in the direction of the front door. There is a bell, but he settles on knocking.

Nothing happens.

He knocks again, his fist hitting the door in time with his rapid heartrate.

When the door pulls open, there is a man a fraction taller than Mickey standing there, looking out in confusion. “Yes?”

“Um, yeah, is Katie here?” Mickey licks his lips and lets his eyes dart away from the man in front of him.

The question seems to have taken the man off guard and he knits his brows and gives Mickey the once-over. “Uh…”

The hesitation is enough to make Mickey regret all of this. “You know what? Forget it. I’m sorry I bothered you.” He’s about to turn and drag his sorry as back to his car when he hears the man finally speak up, only he’s not talking to Mickey. He’s yelling towards the second floor of the house.

“Hey! Katie! There’s some pregnant guy looking for you. He better be one of your patients or you have some explaining to do young lady!” The words take on a playful quality at the end. He turns back to Mickey and shrugs. “I mean…you didn’t let my wife artificially inseminate you, right? Because that would be really weird since…we’re married. You’re pregnant. I mean, you’re cute and everything but, I’m straight. It would just be complicated.”

Mickey has to blink several times to even have a chance at figuring out if he heard right. The man is pulling a face like he’s actually trying to work out the dynamics of the fictional situation he just launched into. He realizes that this man is Katie’s husband. Of course he fucking is. Their sense of humor is just as ridiculous. “Oh my god…you two are like the same fucking person.”

“Me and Kate? Well, she’s got nicer boobs, but we’re similar enough.” He smiles and sticks out a hand. “I’m David.”

“Mickey.”

“Nice to meet you. Unless you really are pregnant with my wife’s kid. Because if that’s the case, you should be ashamed to show yourself around here.” He goes to say more but is hipchecked by Katie. “Hey, easy!”

“Leave my patient alone.” Katie turns to give Mickey an apologetic smile. “Is he being a weirdo? Ignore him. He likes to pretend that I’m inseminating the world with a breed of super humans. I think it makes him feel better about the fact that I spend my career focused on male pregnancy and looking at people with penises all day. Or more specifically, areas of men where I get a pretty up close and personal look at their penises. Relax David, Mickey’s penis is gay.” Mickey chokes and Katie looks at him with confusion. “What? It is, isn’t it?”

Arms crossed, Mickey feels like he stepped into some alternate reality or that he must be a magnet for weird shit. Curling his lip at Katie, he growls, “remind me why I fucking like you.”

“You like me?” Katie clutches her hands over her heart. “Did you hear that David? He actually likes me.” She feigns being overly flattered, before snapping out of it, giving Mickey whiplash with how quickly she shifts out of the moment and moves forward into something more serious. “Now that I know you like me…why are you standing on my doorstep? Everything okay?”

“You said…I could talk to you if I needed to. And…the office door was locked so…I hope it’s okay if I came here. I just…shit, I really need to talk to someone right now.” Mickey fidgets, chewing the side of his cheeks and looking at Katie with a sideways glance. Thankfully, David seems to have come down to the new level of seriousness and retreats to the background, leaving the remainder of his words to fall on Katie’s ears. “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

Giving an understanding nod, Katie backs away from the door. “Get in here.”

“I sorry to bo-”

“You’re not bothering me. Come on. Get in here. We can talk in the living room.” Katie ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. “I did tell you that you could talk to me whenever. But, for the record, I was right about you. I knew you would definitely give me a run for the money. You’re anything but boring.” There is a smile on her face as she leads the way towards the living room. “Sit.”

Mickey realizes he’s been walking through Katie’s house like he’s afraid to leave evidence of his visit. Despite Katie’s insistence that he’s not a bother, he still feels like an intruder. Her house is neat and clean; Mickey’s a mess. The contrast can’t help but make Mickey feel out of place. But this woman, who seems determined to jackhammer through his shell and into his true personality, isn’t giving him any clue that she feels the same way. She’s at ease with him, a refreshing fact. Even more importantly, Mickey is as at ease with her, more than he’s ever been with a doctor. Scanning the room, he takes a tentative seat at the edge of a sofa. “Thanks.”

“No worries.” Sitting across from him, Katie crosses her legs. “What’s going on?”

Mickey launches into it before he can overthink. “So, yesterday? When I was here and the baby…you know…” Making nervous gestures with his hands, he hopes Katie can fill in the blanks.

“Yawned?”

“Yeah…that…and…shit, it scared the hell out of me. It…it’s so human looking now. And it fucking yawns. And…shit.” Mickey furrows his brow and looks at his lap.

“Kinda figured something was going on. You and Ian seemed… _off_.”

“He’s bipolar.” The words tumble out quickly, making Mickey feel guilty for admitting something that isn’t his laundry to air.

“Uhh huh,” Katie muses.

“Yeah…so…he skipped his meds the night before. Not on purpose. Forgot. And then he didn’t sleep much. So…yeah. And I think he’s pretty freaked out too. And I wanna talk to him about that but I feel like I have to figure out why I’m freaking out first. Because…It fucking yawned,” he says dumbly.

“Ahh ha,” Katie says, enunciating each syllable. Instead of addressing the subject directly, she thinks for a moment, touching a finger to her temple. “When I was pregnant with my son…I thought I might be different than other pregnant people. I thought, ‘Katie, you deliver babies for a living. You know what happens in utero.’ But that didn’t seem to matter. As soon as I could both feel and see Cody kicking, I felt like I was on another planet. It was _weird_. But the baby yawning is freaking you out because – ?

“Because it’s a fucking _kid_. It’s a kid that I’m responsible of. And I don’t know how to make sure I don’t mess it up.” Mickey drags part of his lower lip in with his teeth and leaves it there while he actively avoids eye contact with Katie.

“You’re doing a pretty awesome job of _not_ fucking up. I’m your doctor. I can say that.”

“Yeah but,” Mickeys starts. He wants to protest more but a bundle of blond energy runs into the room and launches himself at Katie.

“Mommy!” the little boy squeals as he tumbles over her lap. He gives a toothy grin and hugs her around the neck.

“Hi, monkey,” Katie says as she kisses his tousled hair. “This is my son, Cody,” she explains to Mickey. “Cody, baby, mom is busy right now. Why don’t you go play with some of your toys and then we can help daddy make breakfast.”

“Waffles! Please!” Cody says with enthusiasm.

“Okay, waffles. But you gotta be a good boy for a little bit and let mommy talk to one of her patients. Okay? Remember, mommy has to help other babies be born.” She smiles and nods her head towards Mickey.

Cody looks from his mother to Mickey twice before he puts both hands on his tummy and pats it with a thump. “Baby!”

Mickey’s dumbstruck, watching this kid, who can’t be older than three, try to piece things together. He’s not sure if Cody understands the fine details of the meeting he’s having with Katie but the kid’s definitely got the gist. Cody looks just like his parents, and seems to come with their energy as well. As it turns out, he’s also a good listener. He trots off to the corner of the room, plopping down in front of a play kitchen and throwing plastic food products onto the stove.

“Sorry about that,” Katie says. “And yes, he’s always that excited about everything. Especially waffles.”

Mickey snorts with amusement. “I wish my life was that easy.”

“Don’t we all.” Katie gives a soft smile in his son’s direction. “Anyway, I’m sorry. Where were we? Oh yeah, you were about to tell me that you’re going to fuck things up, no matter what I say. And then I was going to remind you that I’m the one with the medical degree, and you should let me figure that out.”

“I was not,” Mickey retorts with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Yes you were.” Leaning forward, Katie props both elbows on her knees so she can lean closer to Mickey. “I don’t know your life. I’m not going to pretend to. But you and Ian seem to have your shit together more than a lot of people I help. And I am not just saying that. I mean it. But like I said, I don’t know if there are skeletons in your closet…or how deep the closet is. But there is no way you’re going to fuck this baby up right now. Being a parent? That’s tough. That’s different. I’m not talking about that. But actually carrying this kid to term? You’re through all the hard parts to make sure the kids growing right. You’ve just gotta deliver the kid.”

Mickey blanches; he can feel the way the blood drains form his face and makes him feel cold. He’s gotten curious enough to watch some birth videos on YouTube and the result they had on him wasn’t pretty. He’d vomited once, and the other times he felt lightheaded enough to stop the video and focus on breathing. There are lots of fucked up things he’s seen: open wounds, broken bones, and blood, but watching someone give birth is definitely the thing that makes him think he’s met his match. He can’t do that and doesn’t even want to think about his body doing that. Knowing people do it every day doesn’t matter because those people are not him. The kid takes the opportunity to remind him that Mickey’s going to have to get the kid out one way or another by giving a hard kick. Mickey gasps, hand going to where he felt movement. He winces instinctively but it doesn’t hurt. “Fucker,” he grumbles.

“Baby beating you up?”

“Now it is.” Mickey slips a hand under his shirt so he can rub his belly with soothing movements. “I think the kid is as freaked out about the whole birth thing as I am.”

Katie doesn’t miss a beat. “You freaked out about that? I mean, it makes sense. A lot of people are.”

That reassures Mickey some. He looks at Katie and around the quiet room; other than Cody’s soft tinkering, it’s just the two of them and these walls. There are fears he has that make him bristle when he thinks of voicing them. It’s uncomfortable but he’s been trying to get over that. “I don’t like hospitals.”

“Well, you didn’t like the clinic either. You’re a little better about things when you come to my practice.”

“Yeah…well…there are a bunch of people who don’t know me at hospitals and clinics…Ian and I have had some tough moments at hospitals. It’s hard to detach those type of feelings. But you…” Mickey clears his throat and with the hand not trying to sooth his kid, he pushes his hair back. “I don’t trust a lot of people easily. Blame my family. Blame me. Whatever. But I don’t. I’m trying to. And, I think I trust you. I do. If you say I’m not gonna fuck this kid up, then I’ll believe you. But seeing it yawn, it reminded me that it’s a person and I’ve gotta push that _person_ out. That’s fucking terrifying. Do you know that?”

Despite looking like she’s trying not to, Katie laughs, quick to hold up a hand as soon as she does. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s only that you’re so afraid of fucking things up but the things you’re saying are what everyone worries about. Everyone whose kids I helped deliver. And there are no guarantees, anything can happen, but for the most part everything is okay in the end. You’re freaking out but that’s okay. So…don’t get bent out of shape for freaking out. It’s okay to freak out.”

And maybe that is what Mickey needs to hear because he feels himself relax slightly. “I know you don’t know me and Ian but, we’re a team. I can’t put it any other way. He says that I’ve saved him but he’s saved me too. And I’m afraid that if we shift that balance, one of us is going to go under. It’s stupid - I know - and not your problem, but I’m freaking out because I have this kid growing inside me and I don’t know how I feel about it other than the fact that I want it to be okay. And I think I love it.” Squeezing his eyes closed for a second, Mickey scoffs. “I can’t believe I just said that. I don’t think I’ve ever said that I loved it out loud before.”

Getting to her feet, Katie rises and slowly seats herself beside Mickey. “Hey, it’s okay. I freaked the fuck out when I was pregnant with Cody. It’s not that I didn’t want him, but I didn’t want him at that moment. I’d just opened my practice and I was busier than ever and I thought maybe David and I were going to crack under the pressure of the new business and adding a baby? That fucked me up. But then I loved him. And once I learned that David wasn’t going to crack, it was easier. It was okay. So, love the kid if you love the kid. I don’t know you but I know you enough to know you loved that kid long before you voiced it.”

“It’s obvious?” Mickey asks. He thinks of the way Ian looks at him sometimes and knows how to read Ian well enough to think loving their kid is obvious on Ian’s face. Mickey wonders if he is that transparent as well.

“Yeah. You haven’t stopped touching your belly in some way since you’ve got here. You’re so determined not to mess things up. If you didn’t love that kid, I’d assume you wouldn’t give a fuck. But you do.” Licking her lips, Katie hesitantly starts, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” The sound is more of a grunt when it leaves Mickey’s mouth.

“You don’t have to answer. Okay? I wanted to know why you and Ian want to give the baby up for adoption.”

The way she phrases it isn’t actually a question. It’s a statement. She wants to know that but she’s not pushing for an answer and maybe that’s why Mickey says what he does. “We don’t know what we want to do. But Ian and I haven’t had the best parents or the best childhoods. I sure as fuck am not going to turn into my father. I’m not doing that to my kid. I’m not him, I know that. But the whole nurture over nature thing messes with my head. I don’t want to chance that sometimes. And Ian’s got the same deal going on. With the bipolar…I guess we’re worried about that.” Taking a deep breath, Mickey finds that he shudders on the exhale. “I don’t know how I’m going to be a parent. How I’m going to have a family. My whole family is a trainwreck. Well, my sister…she’s okay. But she isn’t around as much. And Ian’s family is…well they’re Gallaghers.” The words putter out and Mickey looks at Katie with a shrug. “I don’t know what to do. I woke up this morning and came here. Because I need someone other than Ian who can help me figure this out.” He looks down at the swell in his middle. “Help me get _this_ out.”

“I’m glad you came here. And I’m glad you’re talking because I get it now, more than I did before.” Katie braves putting her hand on Mickey’s knee. “Birth? I can walk you through that. It’s my job. If you’re nervous about that, we can meet with or without Ian to talk about it. As many times as you need. If you hate hospitals, I can deliver in my clinic, it has a delivery room. But I gotta warn you, if you want pain killers, you’re going to need to go to the hospital. I can deliver a baby on my own but I don’t employ an anesthesiologist. I can deliver your baby at the hospital too. Your call.”

The answer comes to Mickey so quickly that he’s realizes he’s thought about this before. He isn’t one for being confined, physically and socially, by the walls of a hospital. “With you, Here in the clinic.”

Katie nods. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” It's all so very simple on her lips.

“Okay, yeah.” Mickey acknowledges that he’s talking mostly for his own benefit, giving himself the allowance to feel what he’s feeling. It’s freeing, for the most part. These things that had been festering in his brain are spilled out between him and Katie and, unlike Mickey, Katie actually knows what to do with them. Mickey’s thoughts come to a halt when Cody bumps into his knee. His tiny hands hold up a make believe hamburger. Between two plastic buns is a plastic hamburger patty but also a plastic cookie and plastic fried egg.

“I made sandwich,” Cody says triumphantly, holding the ‘hamburger’ up to Mickey.

“Good for you kid,” Mickey says.

Undeterred by Mickey’s lack of enthusiasm, Cody shoves the plastic food into Mickey’s hand. “Eat!”

The kid is looking at him, hopping with insistence that Mickey ‘eat’ the damn thing. Looking at Katie for help, Mickey raises an eyebrow. “What the hell do I do with this?”

“You eat it.” Katie says as she mimes taking a bite out of something.

Feeling like an idiot, Mickey does as Katie said. Giving Cody a look, he says “there, are you happy?”

“It’s good.” Cody’s voice sounds soft, almost like he’s been hurt.

It makes a pang of guilt start up in Mickey’s gut. Looking at the kid again, he takes a more believable fake bite out of the sandwich and rubs his belly more enthusiastically. “Yum. Good.”

“Well look at that,” Katie says with a smug look. “It didn’t take you too long to figure that out. You can borrow my kid for a while. Looks like you’d be a quick learner with Cody as your teacher.”

“Fuck no. I’d break him.” Mickey says, but he’s laughing when the words leave his lips. The darker parts of his brain are reminding him that Katie thinks he can be a parent because she doesn’t know him. She’s a stranger. But the other parts, the one’s he likes to use more and more each day, they’re agreeing with Katie. She’s a fucking doctor and for once in his life, Mickey really thinks it wouldn’t be so bad to follow the doctor’s orders.

***

Ian wonders when his life shifted and changed trajectory.

He supposes that’s happened a handful of times but he wonders which shift lead them here.

Which part is responsible?

He’s looking further back than when the condom failed and he filled Mickey up with their kid.

Sometimes he’s not sure there is an answer. Everything is all jumbled up and maybe there are no parts that are separate. They all work together as some larger whole. That’s actually what Ian likes to think of sometimes. Things might not make sense but they’re part of the grand scheme of things and if that scheme involves Mickey, he’s going to keep everything knit together.

He woke up this morning after Mickey had gone and couldn’t remember if the man told him why he was leaving so early. It doesn’t sit well with Ian but he swallows it down like he swallowed his pills this morning and told himself that he’d get back on track. He’d check in with the doctor because he feels something bubbling under his skin.

It’s been there for a while but Mandy poked at it with a red hot iron. The kid is Mandy’s niece of nephew. It’s her blood. He hates Mandy a little bit because somehow she’s found a way to have the excitement that Ian wishes he could have. But he’s scared. He’s felt himself slipping a little lately and he knew hiring Jason would help but he’s still floating below his line of normal.

This is what happens to him when he lives in uncertainty for too long. If he’s not sure where he stands then he starts to lose focus of where he’s going. The fact that he and Mickey don’t know what they’re doing with the baby is not an avoidance tactic.

Lately he thinks they’re creeping their way towards keeping the kid but it’s a slow crawl and Ian’s cracking.

The kid yawned the other day. Yawned so hard that it looked like its entire body got in on the action, just like Mickey’s body does. Parts of Ian’s brain can only describe the fetus as “adorable”. It’s so cute and tucked neatly where Ian never realized, till that moment, it belongs.

It’s all Ian can think of when he drives back from meeting a person interested in custom work. Ian jumped at the prospect of the commissions because the request was different than those from his usual clientele. The woman is opening a boutique, but she’s looking for something to set her store apart and to give it a one-of-a-kind feel. She wants all her display cases to be made by Ian but she wants them wired to have lights in each one.

Fortunately, Ian happens to know a guy who can do the electrical work. Giving the customer what she wanted was almost too easy. Of course, Ian said he’s gotta check with his “guy” before they sealed the deal, but he’s pretty sure Mickey won’t turn down a good paying job that comes with the perk of working together.

Ian’s thoughts get stuck on Mickey. He’s done with work for the day and he should be heading home but he keeps driving. He doesn’t plan on it but he drives past the turn for his apartment and keeps going until he is idling his truck outside Katie’s clinic. The office space is dark but the house attached to it the opposite. He walks to the house and rings the bell. When a man opens the door, he asks, “is Katie here? I’m a patient of hers. Well, my boyfriend is but he…yeah…is Katie here?” before the man even has a chance to speak.

Rolling his eyes, and smiling up at the ceiling, the man yells, “Kate, there is a not pregnant man at the door for you.”

Katie comes into view; a blond little boy chewing on an apple is popped on her hip. Eyes wide in surprise, she takes a step back. “Ian?”

“He with the other one?” the man asks, looking between Ian and Katie.

“Yeah,” Katie sighs. “Ian, this is my husband, David.” She turns to Ian and nods her head towards David. “You and Mickey…” She starts laughing. “Well you might as well come in for lunch. Mickey already interrupted breakfast. I don’t think Cody,” she gestures towards the boy on her hip, “is going to be as forgiving as he was earlier.”

Ian’s head spins. “Mickey? My Mickey? He was here?”

“Yeah. Probably freaking out over the same thing you are.” Shaking her head, Katie makes an amused tsking sound. “You know, you two should really realize that you’re both afraid of the same thing. Anyway, come inside. I’ve made enough grilled cheese and tomato soup for all of us.” With that, she turns on her heels and walks further into the house.

“You better do as she says,” David warns. “She’s a little scary when people don’t listen to her.”

Following everyone inside, Ian closes the door behind him and tries to get his bearings. Ian’s life has always been eventful. He doesn’t know why it took him so long to understanding having Katie in their lives isn’t a coincidence. It’s part of the scheme of things that make sense.

***

Mickey almost gives himself a concussion when Ian enters their apartment. The sound of Ian slamming their door startles him from his position under their kitchen sink and he almost knocks his head against the pipe there. “Shit!”

Seeing Mickey laying on his back, his shoulders and head under the sink, Ian raises an eyebrow. “Mick?” Ian asks, crouching down and turning his head so he can look into the space. He notices that Mickey’s illuminated the tight space with a flashlight, giving him enough light to see that his boyfriend is rubbing the side of his head and giving Ian a scowl. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing the damn leaking pipe.” Mickey keeps up his glare for another second and then returns to his task. Before Ian came home, he was practically done, but he slipped the wrench when the noise Ian made caused Mickey’s whole body to jolt. When he’s finished, he scoots himself forward enough so that he can sit up without hitting his head.

Ian stretches out a hand to pull Mickey up. He braces himself to take most of the man’s weight and hoists Mickey to his feet. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

Mickey narrows his eyes. “Why? Because I’m fucking pregnant? I’m not an invalid.”

“Never said you fucking were.” Arms crossed over his chest, Ian rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t be doing that because it’s not your job. That’s what a landlord is for.”

That deflates Mickey but he holds onto his aggravation enough to grumble out, “Yeah, well, he would probably take his sweet ass time and it was an easy enough fix.”

They both know he’s right, which kills the argument on the spot. Mickey watches Ian move around the kitchen, and he can feels the things they need to say to each other like a weight inside his belly right next to their kid. “I’m sorry I snapped,” he says quietly as he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Ian pulls a glass from the cabinet above the sink and runs the tap for several seconds before filling it. Leaning down, he peers into the still lit up area beneath the sink. “No leak.” Smiling at Mickey, he takes a long drink, setting the glass down when he is done. “How was your day?”

“Um...” Mickey starts, his hand still nervously fussing with the back of his head. “It was fine. You.”

“Good. Got us a new job, I think.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. Lady in town wants to commission some display cabinets. I told her that’s not a problem but she’s insisting on having each of the displays wired for lighting so she can highlight her products.” Ian takes a stop closer to Mickey. “I told her I’ve got a guy for that.”

“Oh, you’ve ‘got a guy’?” Mickey teases, lips curving upward.

“Yeah I do,” Ian says with a type of certainty that makes Mickey’s smile turn into a mischievous open mouthed grin. He looks Mickey over, wondering what’s going on in Mickey’s head. Katie clued him in on most of it, but right now, Mickey looks like _his_ Mickey. “So, does my ‘guy’ want in on this project?” Stepping closer, Ian slots himself so that their bodies are almost fitted together.

Mickey swallows. His heart is thumping in his chest, the playful banter spurring him on and making his body react to the magnetic pull between them. “Pay good?”

“Real good.” Ian lets his hands fall onto Mickey’s waist, steadying them both. “And there is a bonus. I’ve heard the carpenter is pretty good in bed.”

“You’re a’ite.” Mickey snorts. His body language betrays him because he’s already molding into the way Ian’s hands hold him. Nodding he says, “I don’t have anything else lined up for a while. Good timing for a job like this.” He wants to add more and explain that he didn’t have anything lined up for today either, but he settles into giving Ian an unreadable shrug.

“You okay, Mick?”

Mickey shrugs again, and deflects with, “you okay, Ian?”

“Better now, I think.” Ian leans forward enough to knock their foreheads together. His eyes close and he inhales deeply. “I didn’t think I was…for a little while there. But I’m better now. ‘Cause you’re reminding me that you’re _you_. And it feels really good.” He opens his eyes then and pulls back enough to look at Mickey. They’re standing incredibly close but it isn’t uncomfortable in the least.

When Mickey meets Ian’s eyes, he feels like parts of his resolve have been eroded. “I didn’t go to work today,” Mickey blurts out like a confession.

“I know.”

That takes Mickey by surprise. He tries to pull back but Ian’s hands are still on his waist and he’s stuck there. He feels like he’s gotten caught in a lie, which he supposes he has, and he needs to come up with some type of damage control. But Ian doesn’t look pissed, which only serves to piss Mickey off. “Well why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

Ian shakes his head, forcing himself into Mickey’s space despite how miffed the man looks. He leans in, keeping his voice even. “I was waiting for you to tell me. I knew you would.” Ian’s lips are so close to Mickey’s but he doesn’t kiss him yet. “I wasn’t worried.”

Mickey freezes like that. He’s caught between defending himself and wanting to kiss Ian so the words go away and he doesn’t have to deal with the fact that he lied. It’s a stupid lie but the knee-jerk reaction that comes with being found out is never pleasant. “How’d you find out?”

A short laugh leaves Ian’s lips. “It’s a good thing Katie likes us because she might think we’re crazy.” Ian lets his words sink in before continuing. “I stopped by her house around lunch. She told me you’d been there too.” He pauses when Mickey tenses. “Relax, Mick. She didn’t tell me specifics. But when I told her why I was there, she told me you said a lot of the same things. She also said we’re a cute couple.”

Things fall into place and become clearer. Mickey feels himself float back to earth and press closer to Ian. The comfort of their closeness help return the smile to his face. “Did her husband accuse you of being more than just a patient?” Mickey says with a raised eyebrow.

Ian looks baffled. “Uh, what?”

“Joke. Nevermind. You know, her husband is kinda like her. Actually, a lot like her. It’s fucking weird.”

“Well, apparently, we’re a lot like each other. We both snuck off to the same place on the same day with the same concerns.” Ian’s hands circle around Mickey’s back. “I’m sorry I wasn’t present at your appointment yesterday. I was feeling off from being tired and the meds but it’s more than that. I think you know what I mean. Katie says you do. And I’m scared ‘cause this kid is awesome and I’m afraid to love it but want to at the same time. It’s like a tug-o-war in my brain and I can’t figure out which side is the winning side. It changes every day and I’m starting to lose it. I don’t want to lose it but I am anyway. So, I needed to talk to Katie before I talked to you because I didn’t know if this is normal.”

“Course you did,” Mickey snorts. Of course Ian is making Mickey’s life easier by voicing all the raw emotional stuff for him. “Me too. Same. I told Katie I love this kid. And shit, Ian…I _really_ love you. Like, enough to go to Katie and tell her _everything_. To tell her about me and you and how we met. I just…I kept telling her.”

Ian’s eyebrows pop up. “You did?”

“Yeah. All of it.”

“Shit.” Ian whistles.

“I know.” Mickey hooks a thumb in the waist of Ian’s jeans and tugs. “When I was done, I felt like I could breathe again. Is that what it’s like for you? You know, in therapy?”

“Sometimes.” After so many minutes dancing around the act, Ian’s lips finally connect with Mickey’s. The gesture is soft, lingering just long enough for the touch to be recognized before he pulls back again. “I’m proud of us.”

Mickey snorts. “Her kid is kinda cute.”

“Yeah. He is.”

“He made me a hamburger out of that, whatever the fuck it’s called. That plastic toy food shit. And I had no idea what to do with it. I don’t have little siblings like you do. As an adult I have no idea how to pretend or anything. Katie had to teach me how to play with her kid.”

“What did you do?”

“I _ate_ the damn hamburger. And the kid acted like it was the best moment of his life. I wish you were that easy to please sometimes.” Mickey nudges him playfully.

“It takes a little more than a plastic hamburger but you usually figure it out.” Ian shifts. “Thanks for telling me about your day…I love you.” The words flow together like they’re linked and Ian rests his forehead against Mickey’s again. They stay connected like that, touching to the point where it’s hard to tell that their blood isn’t intermingled and flowing through both of their bodies.

The want between both of them is palpable, growing ever larger with each passing second. The emotions of the day have boiled away, ridding them both of their fear and reminding them, yet again, that they’re solid. Mickey wonders how many times they’re going to have to go through this. It might be how they work, but he wishes they didn’t need to constantly prove to themselves that they are on level ground. When they’re together, they know that. But the world hasn’t always treated them fairly; the fear makes sense. And sometimes, like now, it makes sense to bury the fear and wash over it with bright things. Ian’s heart thumps louder, so hard Mickey can feel it in his lips when they kiss again.

This time Mickey takes more control, molding himself against Ian’s body because he needs to. It feels good, letting their hands roam across the span of each other’s back and Mickey reaches up, moaning through the type of kiss he thinks he needed all day. Ian’s lips part enough to let his tongue slip inside and the kiss takes an intense turn. It’s powerful, lips bruising against each other’s. Sometimes they’re soft, but when they’re hard like this, it gets Mickey’s blood boiling faster. He nips at Ian’s lips, smirking against them and dragging the kiss down so he can attack the pulse point at the man’s neck. The breathy moan Ian lets out produces another smirk from Mickey. “Predictable,” he says under his breath, speaking the words into Ian’s skin and going back up for another kiss.

They stumble slightly, not breaking the kiss as they navigate closer to the bed.  In a swift move, Ian shoves Mickey back, landing the man on the mattress in a sitting position as Mickey lets a noise that has enough surprise in it to make Ian laugh. “You didn’t expect that part.”

“Wanna make this a competition or you wanna get your dick in me anytime soon?” Mickey puts his hands palm down behind his back to support his weight.

“The second part,” Ian says with an eager smile. He crosses over the mattress, crawling to crowd Mickey’s space. Mickey’s lips are parted, swollen slightly from their kisses. The way the brunet looks is feeding the desire building in Ian and his heart flutters. A new feeling in Ian’s gut snags him and he realizes it’s because he gets _this._ He gets to see Mickey like this, with all his layers stripped and his raw emotions flayed so Ian can come inside. He looks down at Mickey and his heart flips over in his chest, breath knocked out of him. It’s cliché as hell but Mickey is doing something that Ian guesses people consider “glowing”. The way Mickey’s back is arched, the swell containing their kid is exaggerated and a possessive growl rises in his throat and he crashes his lips against Mickey.  The kiss isn’t pretty, all teeth clashing and tongues warring, but it is intense.

Mickey lets out a gravely moan which Ian swallows whole, pushing his tongue into Mickey’s mouth. He groans when he feels Mickey rutting against his hip, the unmistakable hardness of his thickening dick pressing into him.

“You’re gorgeous.” Ian can’t stop the compliment from leaving his mouth. The flush of arousal warms his face but he is safely trapped in the realm of being too far gone to give a shit. He kisses Mickey then, pushing him backwards. It’s a bit of a struggle, but they manage to maneuver themselves up the mattress until Mickey is lying flat on his back, head on the pillow and hands tugging Ian’s shirt upwards. Ian gets the hint, breaking the kiss long enough to yank the shirt over his head.

Both of their sets of hands enter a rushed race to disrobe. It’s shockingly similar to the first time they had sex and Mickey laughs, shaking his head and licking the corner of his mouth with amusement. Thankfully, Ian’s helping Mickey get out of his clothing because the belly makes it a little more difficult to move as swiftly as before but they’re naked and pressed together quickly enough that none of the desire has diminished. Mickey’s fingers comb through the hair at the back of Ian’s head and he pulls him in, savoring their connection. His hips jut up again, resulting in a satisfying moan from them both when their arousals meet up. “Shit, Ian.” Deeper thoughts fall out of Mickey’s head and are replaced by everything that comes together to make up Ian. The noises he is making must sound desperate because he can feel the way Ian’s lips are turning upward, the smug tightness of his muscles as Ian holds onto him.

“This you being pregnant thing has some perks, huh?” Ian smiles against Mickey’s lips, rolling his hips enough to get a stunted groan from him. Snaking both arms up, he rests most of his weight on his elbows so that he can cup Mickey’s face with his hands, thumbs tracing his jaw line, one sliding over Mickey’s lower lip and dragging it down. He shifts enough around his boyfriend’s belly so he can press down into Mickey’s groin and kisses the man’s lips until they are swollen and gasping.

Mickey makes an impatient growling noise, lip curling as he shifts his own weight on the bed, trying to get some type of friction or stir Ian into the next course of action. There is a bit of fumbling after that while Ian finds the will power to leave Mickey’s lips and scoot off the bed to find the lube. Several minutes and two fingers thrusting inside of Mickey later, Ian is wringing moans of pleasure from the older man. They’re still kissing, only breaking to get a gasp of air and to paw at each other.

Ian adds another finger to the mix and coaxes Mickey open. Mickey doesn’t seem to need much, he’s already unraveling.

Mickey responds to every slide of Ian’s fingers, bucking hips and fingers fisting the sheets at his side. Ian’s fingers manage to hit every nerve ending inside of him and maybe he should be ashamed of the ways he starts shaking but he doesn’t give a shit. The redhead is taking his time, hitting triggers that cause a bead of precome to wet the head of Mickey’s dick. Sneaking a hand between them, Mickey wraps his fist around his arousal and stokes it lazily. “You enjoying yourself?” Mickey pants out.

“Huh?”  Ian nudges the man’s jaw so he can have access to his neck, sucking till he’s just on the edge of bruising it up.

“You love this. Just ‘cause I'm having your kid doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass if you tease me all night.”  Mickey licks his lips, opening himself up to Ian all the more. He watches the way Ian’s eyes go darker and realization dawns on him. He smirks and with a voice that isn’t angry, he teases with dark intensity, “you sick fuck. You love that I already have a piece of you inside me. Don’t you?”

The words hit Ian and he realizes he’s the one falling apart, Mickey’s devious words starting his undoing. His heart flutters, maybe it even stopped for a moment, and he shifts Mickey, tugging both of the man’s legs so he lands flat on his back.  He doesn’t need to tell Mickey that, yes, he does love knowing all that; his actions speaks for themselves. He slathers his cock with a sloppy mess of lube before throwing one of Mickey’s legs over his shoulder. Mickey is still looking at him with a cocky grin, pulling Ian closer by adding pressure to the younger man’s back with his heel. “Oh, god….”  Ian’s head goes fuzzy.  He lines his dick up with Mickey’s readied entrance and nudges at it gently.  “You’re about to have a whole lot more of me inside you.” Without waiting for a response, he thrusts in with one fluid movement.

Mickey’s back arches and his head presses into the pillow, forgetting the retort on his tongue about how ridiculously cheesy Ian’s last line was. He lets out a hiss, but it is followed directly by a satisfied moan. “Fucking finally.” Clinging to Ian’s shoulder through several thrusts, their bodies start to move in perfect sync. Ian feels good inside of him, and Mickey loves how deep he’s able to take Ian because of the nice stretch provided by the leg thrown over Ian’s shoulder. Ian’s thrusting is steady, but Mickey needs him to pick up the pace. “Harder.”

The response comes in the form of Ian snapping his hips and pushing himself up onto his knees. He yanks Mickey closer, still keeping one leg over his shoulder but tugging on the other one for leverage. Fucking into the man, he lets out little grunts as sweat breaks out along his spine. Letting Mickey know that he trusts him, that he knows best what he can handle, Ian gives it good and hard.

Choking on a breath, Mickey gets lost in the feeling of Ian thrusting into him. He senses parts of him drawing up, tensing to the point where something has to give. Ian snakes a hand between them, fingers shoving Mickey’s hand away so he can replace it with her own. One at a time, Ian’s fingers curl around Mickey’s dripping arousal and send a shiver through Mickey’s body. Everything is moving at the same time, their bodies crash together. Ian’s careful not to hurt the swell sandwiched between them but the way he pounds into Mickey is perfectly beautiful. Mickey’s eyes flutter and he feels the orgasm being pulled out of him. “Shit, right there…” Another choked moan of pleasure escapes his mouth. “Fuck…fuck…fuck…” Mickey’s brain is stuck on repeat and he squeezes his eyes shut when he falls apart completely. “Ian!” he yelps out and comes in a sudden burst over Ian’s fist.

Ian’s heart explodes and he strokes Mickey through his orgasm, feeling the man clenching around his dick. His hips stutter, smooth thrusting giving way to an unbridled tumble over the edge. It’s over in a hot, sweaty, dirty twist of his hips and he comes hard, painting Mickey’s insides with pulses of his release.

“Fuck, Mickey!” Ian shouts, pressing as deep as he can into the man under him. He stays upright, holding onto Mickey’s legs while he bows his head and tries to figure out how to breathe so things don’t blackout.

Mickey clutches onto his shoulders, riding out their orgasms together and wringing out every wave of pleasure he can. For as quick as everything got started, it’s over slowly, the lust of the moment taking it’s time in dissolving into the peacefulness of their apartment. In a gentle movement, Ian pulls out, both men hissing at the loss of connection, and he lowers Mickey’s legs back to the mattress. He flops down beside him, chest mirroring Mickey’s panting. “You okay?”

Mickey turns his head, cheek against the pillow. “Yeah.” Mickey has an open mouthed smile on so he can keep up his heavy breathing. “Kid is good too.” He doesn’t bother telling Ian that the kid is uncomfortably pressing down on his insides because he rolls on his side and alleviates most of it. “Yeah, the carpenter is pretty good in bed,” he teases.

“The electrician’s not half bad either.” Ian rolls onto his side, facing Mickey. He notices that Mickey’s eyes are cloudy with a type of lazy sleepiness. He reaches out a hand and presses his palm to Mickey’s belly. “You sure you’re okay, right.”

“Fine. Really.” Mickey lifts his shoulders enough to inch them closer to Ian, pressing down into the mattress against to help shift the rest of his body over. He feels the kid squirming inside him and he looks down, finding Ian’s hand absentmindedly tracing patterns across the stretched skin. Ian had said he was gorgeous. Not their usual choice of words; Mickey will never admit it but the word had made his heart burst with love for the other man. Whatever self-confidence concerns he was dealing with were blanketed in that word and he snuggles into it. Ian’s hand keeps up its constant attention, and the baby seems to react to it. Mickey remembers what Katie said about the baby being able to detect outside touches and puts his hand over Ian’s pressing it over where the kid is giving him trouble. Working like a charm, Ian’s hand soothes the baby into softer movements. “That feels pretty good,” Mickey admits.

“Yeah?” Ian’s lips make a slow smile.

“Real good.” Mickey stretches his neck, kissing Ian lazily. His lips lingers against the other man’s, pressing several closed mouth kisses there. “Don’t stop?” He thought it was a statement but when the words leave Mickey’s mouth, he realizes it’s a question.

“I wasn’t planning on it. I just wanna get something to clean us up, okay?”

Mickey doesn’t try to stop him. He lets Ian slip away and closes his eyes. His body is humming with contentedness. When Ian returns, he keeps his eyes closed; he’s not tired, but he is drained. He and Ian have nothing to do today, and leading Ian fawn over his belly feels pretty good: emotionally and physically. The warmth of a wet cloth over the mess of come on his body is welcomed, as is the way the mattress dips when Ian slides back into place beside him. Fluttering his eyes open to let Ian know that he isn’t asleep, Mickey finds the other man looking at him seriously. “What?”

“You know, you’re not the only one who doesn’t know if they’d be such a great father. But…knowing the kid likes when I do this,” Ian puts his hands back, curving his body in a protective C shape as he face’s Mickey, “makes me feel a little better about it.” Ian’s fingers fan out, covering as much surface area as possible.

“Me too.” Mickey reaches up a pushes a strand of hair from where it’s fallen into Ian’s eyes. Ian’s eyes are fixed on his but they travel down over Mickey’s chest and land on his distended middle. He traces figure eights with his index finger. The gesture is sweet, probably in the top five gestures between him and Ian that Mickey could consider sweet.

They’re not tired in the way that requires sleep but zoning out for a while with their hands on each other and their minds at ease is a relief. Mickey’s skin is cooling as he slowly crawls back down from their prior activities, but Ian’s hands feel warm and safe. “We’re good, Ian,” he reassures because he likes hearing it. And when Ian responds the way he always does, nudging even closer and tangling their legs together, he doesn’t even waste time pretending that it bothers him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for the angst going away.
> 
> For a little while at least. But they are done having this same argument. And Mickey's not going to pretend he doesn't like the way Ian's hands feel on his belly.
> 
> Thanks so much for your amazing comments so far! Thank you!!!! XOXO


	15. Deviate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning : Ian thinks about his mother's suicide attempts and has nightmares. He doesn't think about killing himself but the dreams are kind of a trigger for him.  
> Reference to blood from an accidental injurty.

Standing with his hand on his hip, Mickey's staring at the piece of furniture Ian created the day before.

It’s beautiful. Flawless, really. Mickey expected that; Ian is fixated on making sure the little mistakes and imperfections in the wood he uses shine in ways that make them look like they belong. He’s pretty much obsessive about that.

Mickey contemplates if Ian sees the symbolism in that but then reminds himself that Ian is much too clever for the fact to escape him. Ian probably wonders the same thing about Mickey, but they both know how the gears and cogs of their relationship work. It’s not an accident that they appreciate the natural flaws in things.

Without thought, Mickey tries to bend down to trace the vertical edge of the furniture with his finger. His stomach gets in the way, making him crouch downward awkwardly, but he manages to inspect the lines and craftsmanship. Running lighting for the piece shouldn’t be too difficult. He’ll have Ian drill away a bit on the inside so the recess lighting doesn’t clutter the display space. The rest is easy.

When he stands, he can feel the now familiar weight of the baby redistributing in his belly. Mechanically, his hand runs across the swell but the usual flutter of activity doesn’t happen. It doesn’t register as strange until he tries to recall the last time the kid moved. The fact that the instance doesn’t immediately come to mind is the things that lets the worry sink in. Looking down at his middle with a pointed glare, Mickey taps his fingers across it. The kid usually moves a lot, even Katie said as much. Mickey figures the kid’s part Ian, it's kinda of predictable that the baby doesn’t like sitting still for too long. His fingers keep searching out movement, but there's nothing. He must snort because suddenly he’s aware of someone staring at him. Turning his head, he catches Jason looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?” he snaps, making the word sound like a challenge.

Shrugging, Jason puts the tape measure down and turns his body square to Mickey. “Kid messing with you?” With a dip of his head, he gestures towards Mickey’s middle.

“No. Kinda the opposite.”

Jason’s brows knit like he wasn’t expecting that. “You worried?”

Mickey finds himself sucking in his lip in thought. He doesn’t know how to answer the question because telling the truth would mean that he’s having an actual conversation with Jason but brushing the question off feels wrong, avoidant in ways he’s been trying to grow out of. “I dunno, maybe.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jason's words are sincere enough to let Mickey know he’s not just brushing him off. “Kid’s running out of room in there, right? It’s probably nice and cozy in there. Hell, I don’t blame it. I didn’t feel like getting out of bed this morning. It was too warm under the blankets. Too bad my daughter doesn’t care about how nice my bed feels. In the morning she’s got one thing on her mind. A bottle. And she doesn’t quiet down until she gets it.” Jason laughs and reels himself back when he takes in the expression on Mickey’s face. “But you probably don’t care about any of that.” Shaking his head, he smiles. “Baby’s probably fine. It’ll move when it wants to. Or you could try drinking orange juice. Get the kid moving.”

“Orange juice?

“Yeah. My wife loves it. Every time Naomi drank orange juice, Jayda would kick her like crazy. Doctor said it was all the sugar in the juice.” Jason laughed at the memory and then, shaking his head softly the whole time, turns away from Mickey and goes back to work.

Mickey doesn’t know what to make of that. Part of him wants to buy a gallon of orange juice to prove Jason wrong; Jason doesn’t know anything about him. The other part of him is glowering over the fact that Jason’s coming across like he knows all the answers. In regards to being pregnant, Mickey knows practically none of the answers. Hell, he doesn’t even know the questions. It makes him growl under his breath.

He really hates Ian for dashing out on an errand, leaving him and Jason to work together. It wasn’t quite the situation Mickey had envisioned when Ian suggested they work together. But it is only the first few hours of their joint venture into furniture construction and Mickey knows that once Ian’s back, things will fall into place.

In truth, not having Ian around can be beneficial. There is less of a possibility for them to distract each other. Mickey gets to work, running wires and testing out the placement of lights. It takes him several attempts, but he finally figures it out. He’s about half way done with one of the display cases when Jason interrupts him to say that Ian’s asked him to run out and pick up a case of sample stains that Ian’s considering switching to.

Mickey bids him farewell with an unenthused snort and keeps up his work. He’s sitting on the bare floor, legs spread in a V around the narrow end of the furniture and while it’s starting to become an uncomfortable position, he’s so close to getting the wiring just right that he’s willing to bear it a little longer. If things go well, he’ll have the whole process of getting the display case lit down to a science. It won’t be hard to mirror his efforts on the other pieces the client ordered from Ian.

Things must have taken longer than Mickey realizes because he’s still not done and Jason’s back. Mickey is eyelevel with the top of the piece he’s working on, looking up just in time to see Jason plop a small bottle of orange juice in front of his face. “What the fuck?”

Jason says nothing in response. He sets the box he’d been set for down in the corner and, without explanation, goes back to the pieces of wood he’d been measuring before he left. His back it to Mickey when he adds, “I got a few chicken sandwiches from the deli if you want, I figured you and Ian might need some lunch.”

Mickey isn’t sure if Jason thinks he can buy his friendship with food or if he’s actually that considerate of a person. Right now, he doesn’t care about the real motivation behind the sandwiches because he’s hungry. His stomach growls and he manages, with more effort than he’d like to admit, to get himself off the floor. There is a brown paper bag on the work table between them and he opens it to reveal three warm, neatly wrapped sandwiches. He pulls one out, peels back enough paper to expose a few inches of bread and meat and takes a large bite. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“You’re welcome." There is amusement in Jason's words.

Jason is making it really hard for Mickey to dislike him, which is actually working to Jason’s detriment because it frustrates Mickey. There is no real reason for Mickey to dislike Jason, but he’s new. Yes, he’s married with a daughter of his own, but he’s still a new person wedged into his and Ian’s life. Mickey hasn’t had time to adjust to that and he realizes that there is a possibility that hormones are making him a slightest bit jealous that this stranger gets to spend so much time with Ian. He feels stupid for even having the thought because Mickey knows that now he gets to spend the workday with Ian too. Chewing his sandwich, he narrows his eyes at Jason and tries to sort things out.

Orange juice and chicken don’t usually go well together but Mickey takes a large gulp anyway. Aside from being thirsty, the continued hours of no movement from their kid is making him desperate enough to try anything. He meant to take just one swig of the juice, but he finds himself unable to stop until he’s pounded the entire bottle. Swallowing thickly, he looks down at his middle, his voice so quiet that he can barely hear the words himself. “Hey, kid, you okay in there?” There isn’t an answer from the other end, so he licks the orange taste from his lips and returns to his sandwich. The worry growing in his gut makes the sandwich less satisfying than it was at first bite. Still, he eats the whole thing, leaving him feeling slightly sick but he’s not sure if it’s because he ate and drank so much in such a short period of time or if it’s the worry’s fault.

He needs to sit down.

There is a folding chair a few paces away and he makes his way towards it, letting out an “oouf” when his weight settles into the seat. One arm curls under the curve of his belly, allowing his fingers to stretch upwards over it. Mickey’s sure he doesn’t move for a few minutes and Jason’s probably taken notice but he couldn’t care less. He reflects back on when he thought he was losing the baby, when he’d found blood, but Katie had told him it was all okay. She told him he wasn’t fucking anything up. This time, he’s wondering if the kid being quiet is normal or if his body has finally found a way to fuck up despite all the work that he, Ian and Katie have done to steer clear of that fate. “Come on, kid,” he whispers. And like magic, the baby moves. It shifts, pressing a hand out against its father’s womb so that Mickey can feel the push on his palm. The realization that his kid is alright pops Mickey’s eyes wide. He leans back against the chair, arching his back slightly, and places both palms on his belly. The flurry of activity inside him is instant and he gasps. “You little shit,” Mickey says with a laugh, his voice louder than intended.

“Told you,” Jason says from across the room. “Orange juice. Works every time.” He looks at Mickey with a ‘told you so’ face.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Tripping over the words, Mickey smiles. He doesn’t get up from the chair just yet, almost as if he’s afraid to move and break the moment. Afraid that maybe he imagined the kid moving. But in a gallant attempt to prove him wrong, the kid lands a kick to his bladder and Mickey curses. “Kid’s a little shit,” he offers in explanation but there is not a trace of heat behind his words. Instead, they almost sound affectionate, and Mickey figures that they actually are in their own way.

There is silence between them for a beat before Jason breaks it. His words are slow and hesitant, like he’s not sure how to approach a conversation with Mickey. “So…you and Ian…”

“Yeah. Me and Ian.” The words are thick on his tongue, heavy and permanent. Getting to his feet, Mickey crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve got a fucking problem with that?”

“What? No! I…jesus, why on earth would you think that.” Jason curls his lip in disgust at the thought. “I was going to ask – before you cut me off – if you and Ian ever thought about opening a storefront. I was just trying to have a fucking conversation.” For the first time, Jason’s sounds exasperated, finally flustered and lacking patience.

That’s what hits Mickey. It’s what reminds him that he’s being hyper defensive when there is no damn reason for it. His tone softens and he uncrosses his arms, letting them fall to his sides so he can nervously fuss with the hem of his shirt. “Shit. I’m sorry…look, I know that I haven’t been so easy to talk to.” He ignores the snort that leaves Jason’s lips and keeps talking. “I haven’t really been fair to you. That’s on me. It’s just – ” Mickey’s cut off.

“Stressful right now. I get it.”

Mickey was already on his way to not hating Jason, but he likes him even more now that the man skirted around the word “hormones”. Had he said that, Mickey would have probably killed him. He’d be justified. Or he’d just prove Jason right. But that didn’t happen and he’s thankful. “So fucking stressful. And…that’s not because of you. You’re helping. So…thanks. For the help. And for the, you know.” He points towards the orange juice.

“It’s fine. I figured if we were going to work together, we couldn’t keep ignoring each other.” Jason brushes the issue away.

That’s not true. Mickey probably could have continued ignoring Jason and gone on with his life, but that wouldn’t have done either of them much good. This is better. It even feel better. “I’m just an asshole sometimes. I don’t know how Ian and I survived that fact.”

Shrugging, Jason says, “I figure you have other qualities. Mostly, he smiles when he talks about you. You can’t be an asshole all the time.”

Mickey blushes, the flush running up to the tip of his ears. He knows Ian talks to people about him but usually those people are family or any extension of it. Being confronted with the fact makes Mickey feel like a stupid teenager but mostly, he likes it. Giving Jason a cocky smile, he shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe he’s just a masochist.”

“Who’s a masochist?” Ian asks, returning to the workshop with a confused crease between his brows.

Jason lets out a laugh, fingers pressed to his temple as he shakes his head. “You, apparently.”

If anything, the wrinkle between Ian’s eyebrows deepens. Mickey doesn’t give Ian a chance at questioning things more. He steps forwards and fists the top of his hoodie and pulls him in for a rough kiss. The PDA isn’t habitual but it feels at place in the moment. “Maybe I’m the masochist,” Mickey starts, breathing heavily when he pulls away from Ian’s lips just enough to talk, “for missing your ass when you’ve barely been gone two hours.” He resumes kissing Ian, getting in one uninterrupted press of his lips and sweep of his tongue.

Ian’s hands land on Mickey’s hips to keep himself steady. Then he shifts one to slide to the arch of Mickey’s spine and the other to rest on the curve of his belly. The kid kicks, both of them letting out a noise to know they felt it. “Sorry I left you two alone for so long.”

The way Ian says the words make it difficult for Mickey to make out what he means. He’s not sure if Ian’s sorry for leaving both Mickey and the kid or if he’s apologizing for tossing Jason and Mickey together without warning. It seems less painful to believe the latter. “Nah, it’s fine,” Mickey says, breaking the kiss and composing himself. He coughs once as if the gesture is capable of clearing the air of the emotional connection they just tapped into. “Figured out how to wire the cabinets. Not that hard. I just need you to drill out the top part a bit so the lighting will sit flush. Kid was being difficult. It’s good now, but it didn’t feel like moving before. Jason gave me a tip on how to get it moving.” He points to the empty orange juice bottle balanced on the edge of the worktable.

“Good to know,” Ian says, smile bright enough to make everything feel on course. “You two get along okay?”

“Ehh, he’s not so terrible.”

There is an amused glint to Ian’s eyes but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his smile broadens and then he steps back, heading towards the furniture Mickey’s practically done working on. “Show me what you need me to do.”

Mickey does, his hands guiding Ian’s when there really isn’t much need for it. But the connection is good, settling in ways he didn’t know he needed at the moment. The kid is moving but so is Ian, shifting inside of Mickey’s personal space and making echoes in his wake.

***

Ian’s moving on autopilot and he knows he really shouldn’t be. He repeats all the rules in his head.

Measure twice, cut once.

And he’s listening to the rules but he keeps making stupid mistakes anyway. He’s not distracted, even though Mickey could prove to be a distraction at times. Now, however, Mickey and Ian are behaving, finishing the display cabinets just in time for the agreed upon completion date.

He’s thinking. When Ian takes that for what it is, he supposed it can be considered a distraction.

Working with Mickey has been good. Ian knew it would be. Mickey’s really good at his job. He follows the usual rules associated with being an electrician but he also has some hidden hacks up his sleeves. Somehow, he always figures out a way to get things done, even if his solutions aren’t always conventional. Mickey figured out how to keep the lighting in the cases clean and crisp, looking both polished and powerful.

Mickey definitely saved Ian a lot of leg work in the sense that Ian didn’t have to go hunting down a freelance worker to wire the cabinets. Had he done that, it probably would have cost him a client since the price of each cabinet would have to be bumped up.

And while all those reasons for enjoying working with Mickey are well and good, the thing Ian thinks he likes the most is the fact that he can keep an eye on Mickey. He’ll never admit that out loud because he doesn’t want to rock the boat too much and he doesn’t need Mickey to remind him that they are both adults. They don’t need babysitting.

But sometimes, even when they think they don’t, they do. Ian’s needed it. He knows that now but he still fought tooth and nail at the time. In hindsight, Ian wonders how many stumbles they could have avoided if they hadn’t fought being taken care of when it was truly needed.

So Ian likes having Mickey near him. He knows Mickey is taking care of himself; he’s seen the man bend over backwards to make sure he doesn’t mess up giving their kid a shot at being born healthy. But Ian can’t help but worry because electricity is a dangerous thing. His gut twists in knots when he thinks about Mickey spending his days somewhere in the world taming electric currents.

The icing on the cake is getting to banter with Mickey all day, tease each other and fall into a comfortable routine. Mickey’s even warmed up enough to Jason for it to be possible for them to test the waters with the new employee and see how much they can rag on him before the humor goes out of things. After all, Ian is still Jason’s boss. He needs to keep things somewhat professional. Just a tiny bit.

Ian’s mind wonders a bit. He’s around Mickey a lot, but seeing him work is kind of a turn on. Watching the way Mickey scrunches his face and bites his bottom lip when he’s concentrating leaves a hint of arousal in his gut. It’s part cute and mostly sexy. He catches Mickey looking at him sometimes, eyes narrowed but curved up a bit in the corners like he’s enjoying what he’s looking at.

They’re kind of hopeless like that.

But Ian looks at Mickey and sees other things too. He sees the expressions Mickey wears when the baby moves and Ian hears the noises he makes if that movement startles him or is uncomfortable. For someone who isn’t very vocal unless Ian’s fucking him silly, Mickey’s doesn’t try to stop himself from vocalizing his reaction to their kid growing inside him. Maybe he isn’t aware of it, but Mickey makes these little utterances all day long. Sometimes their under his breath, but Ian can usually hear them.

It’s adorable, that’s what it is.

It also makes Ian wish he could do something more, like he’s helpless. It’s not that he feels like an outsider, per say, but he does feel like he’s failing to grasp something. He watches Mickey and falls more in love with him but some of that love leeches over to their kid. He can’t help it. And Mickey gets to be in tune with their kid; Ian’s delegated to watching. He’s talked to Dr. Pollack about it last a few weeks ago when he bumped his appointment up. Ian had realized he was slipping a bit after Mandy’s visit and he knew well enough to get back on track. Dr. Pollack had listened patiently to him and reassured him that the feelings of being at a loss over how to help Mickey are normal. She didn’t scold him for missing his meds but made him reflect on how he was feeling after doing so and made sure Ian knew that things could become a slippery slope real fast.

Ian told Dr. Pollack that he went to visit Katie because he didn’t know if he was fucking up that part where he is supposed to be a supportive partner. He thinks he might have had a misstep the day that Mandy joined him but he couldn’t help it. He’d just seen his family and everything felt good. Sharing the moment of seeing his and Mickey’s kid with Mandy felt normal. It felt right. And Mandy looked thrilled by it, which is what broke Ian a bit. Their kid was part of him and Mickey but it was part of other people too.

They’re gonna keep the kid, he knows it in his gut.

But they’re both afraid to settle on that idea, as if it might blow up in their face if they say it outload.  Things are starting to feel like a giant game of pretend even though the answers are in their brains.

So they call the fetus their kid. It’s usually not ‘baby’ or ‘child’ or ‘little one’. It’s just ‘kid’ because somehow that sounds detached enough for them to continue playing their game. Mickey calls the kid a little shit half the time, but that’s as good as calling it ‘baby’. No matter what word or words they use, there is raw emotion to back it up.

Maybe it’s the flutter of his heart when Ian thinks about that or that fact that he’s not completely focused on what his hands are doing, but Ian slips. He’s pressing a piece of wood through the table saw when his right hand manages to push a little harder than his left. Things slip and he’s not sure how but there is the crack of wood and a burning pain that starts to spread out from the soft side of his left forearm.

“Shit!” Ian’s first instinct it to grab the injured arm but when he looks down he freezes. There is blood, too much coming out too quickly. He swallows, choking on air. With his newfound inability to get oxygen into his lungs, it’s more than blood loss that makes him feel dizzy. There are black spots in his vision because there is so much blood. It is bright red and stark against the paleness of his arm. He makes a broken sound in the back of his throat and gags.

The blood has him seeing things from his past: The way his mother sliced her wrists and bled on the kitchen floor. The way he knows she’d done things like that before. He sees the blood flowing out of her but it’s an illusion because his eyes are trained on his own arm and his own blood.

It’s so much different than when he watched Mickey get shot – twice – or when they’d come to blows and left each other with bloody smears across their faces. He sees that type of blood and that was different.

He sees Mickey. Actually sees him. He’s swimming in and out of focus in front of his face. Ian’s knees buckle; this time he’s sure it’s because his blood is falling to the floor in thick blobs. “Mick…”

Mickey’s there, hooking him under the arm and making Ian’s fall to the ground a slower one rather a skull shattering collapse. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, but his words quiver around the edges. “Shit, Ian,” Mickey starts, propping Ian up against the leg of a table and skirting backwards are fast as he can to assess the damage. He’s ripping off the unzipped sweatshirt he’s wearing over his paternity tee and pressing the fabric to Ian’s arm. “I’ve got you.”

Ian’s out of it but he’s cognizant enough to wince when Ian presses the sweatshirt to his wound. It sends zaps of pain thought his arm and his eyes flutter back for a moment. He thinks he might be going into shock. Mickey’s sweatshirt is black but Ian can see the spots where it is growing heavier and darker with his blood. A chill of fear runs down his spine and a clamminess spreads across his skin. He moves his mouth to talk but can’t get the words out.

Then he’s moving. He’s not really sure how but he feels his arm hoisted over something supportive and he’s being told to shuffle his feet forward. It sounds like Mickey but it also sounds like a reverberation he can’t place. His body feels like it’s weighing him down, tucking down against whatever is holding him up. It has to be Mickey because there is a hand around his waist and Mickey smells good and feels warm. Ian wants to let his eyes flutter closed but Mickey’s threatening to beat his ass for even thinking about the action. Ian doesn’t want that, so he keeps his eyes open enough to see Mickey’s car come into focus. Somehow he’s tumbled inside and sound cuts off. Everything seems far away even though he’s right in front of it.

His eyes want to close.

Mickey’s going to kill him if he lets that happen.

He fights it for a moment but loses, giving in to the blackout that’s been trying to drag him down.

***

Mickey’s sitting in a goddamn hospital chair, one leg pulled up so he can rest his foot on the seat while he chews the hell out of his right fingernails. He doesn’t do that shit, but he can’t help himself. He needs to busy himself with something and it seems to be the only thing he can do that doesn’t involve walking more than a few feet from Ian’s hospital bed.

His hands’ dryness is becoming uncomfortable, but Mickey had scrubbed them raw after Ian was finally admitted to the hospital. They were covered in Ian’s blood, the red stuff finding ways to seep into spots that Mickey had to pick at in order to rid himself of it.

He’s seen Ian’s blood plenty of times, even had it under his nails and dried around the cuticles, but this was definitely the scariest. Watching Ian fade like that made Mickey want to vomit. He stifled the impulse long enough to make sure Ian was going to be okay and then threw up into the waste bin at his side in one blurred movement.

In his condition, Mickey couldn’t figure out a way to carry Ian’s ass despite the fact that he’d done it before. Panic had bloomed in him but he somehow managed to get Ian into his car before his boyfriend zoned out completely. Getting him into the hospital had to be left to other people because without even an ounce of effort from Ian, Mickey wasn’t going to be able to do much more than drop Ian’s ass on the asphalt.

Things were a blur but it turns out Ian hadn’t fucked himself up quite as bad as it looked. He’d cut himself, but he’d only grazed the blade. There were veins that needed tending to and stiches to be done but ultimately, he’d recover without lingering effects.

Ian’s out cold still, looking exhausted with hints of circles under his eyes that Mickey doesn’t remember being there before. Mickey starts to think that no one looks like they’ll be okay when they’re passed out in a hospital bed with donated blood running through their veins. Every ounce of Mickey hates that fact and he glares at the bag of blood. It’s stupid to be resentful over the fact that someone else’s blood is what is helping Ian in ways that Mickey can’t because deep down, Mickey is grateful. He just wishes he could have done that too. The pregnancy prevents the hospital staff from letting Mickey donate even though he’s a good match.

The kid seems pissed about it too because it’s riled up and annoyed that it’s the thing holding Mickey back from taking care of things himself. Mickey’s hand lands on his belly and he traces absentminded patterns across it with his index finger. He’s starting to get uncomfortable but he guesses it’s because the kid is running out of room and everything feels _tight_. Katie told him it was normal and he’s learning to trust her more about those things. Besides, she’s all he’s got in terms of figuring out how he’s going to deliver the baby; it’s a damn good thing he trusts her. Meeting up with her on his own hasn’t exactly let him thrilled about the idea of giving birth but he’s much better than he used to be.

Ian groans, the slack expression of sleep on his face shifting to be one that looks like it hurts to wake up. His eyes squeeze shut and he groans again.

“Hey,” Mickey says softly as he gets to his feet. “You’re okay.” He licks his lips and reaches out a hand to settle Ian. His fingers trace his hairline and curve down his jaw. “You’re okay,” he repeats because the relief over that fact washes over him and he knows he’s not just saying it for Ian’s benefit.

“Mick?” Ian croaks out, voice dry from disuse.

“Yeah,” Mickey blurts out with a reassured laugh. His lips curve up in a hint of a smile and he laughs again. “You’re a fucking asshole.” If the words weren’t drenched with gratitude over the fact that Ian’s eyes are blinking up at him, clearly registering who he is, then the hidden meaning might have come out. Mickey does think Ian’s an asshole. He has no right to get hurt like that out of nowhere and leave Mickey to sit around waiting to see if he’d be okay. He spent too much time in his life waiting to find out if Ian is going to bounce back. It makes him feel helpless. Ian knows that. “You’re a fucking asshole,” he repeats, but he leans down to press a kiss to the top of Ian’s head, his lips lingering in the tousled hair there.

Even after being unconscious for a few hours, Ian’s still sharp enough to understand what Mickey’s getting at. He winces and tries to roll his eyes upward to get a look at Mickey. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“You better be.” Pulling back, Mickey lets his hand drop to the mattress, shyly crawling it along the sheets until he hits the warmth of Ian’s fingers.

“What the fuck happened?” Ian winces, groaning again as he squints his eyes while they try to adjust to the brightness of the room. “I’m in a fucking hospital.”

“No shit. You decided today was a good day to paint the workshop floors red.” Mickey had meant the words to sounds like a jibe but in the end they wind up turning his stomach.

The fog in Ian’s eyes is slow to dissipate but he eventually blinks them enough to scan the room. Lifting up his injured arm, he hisses. His line of vision trails over the bandage and up to the transfusion of blood. “Fuck…”

“Yeah. You nicked yourself pretty bad there.”

“Did I…what did…am I…” Ian starts, unable to actually formulate a full question.

“You skinned part of your forearm. It bled like a mother fucker, probably why you passed out so quickly. You lost a lot of blood, messed up some of the veins over there, but the docs were able to patch you up. You…you lost a lot of blood Ian.”

Ian swallows thickly and nods his head. “I know…I…it was…” He doesn’t finish. Instead, his face turns a sickly pallor and he shakes the ideas away. “I’m sorry Mick. It was a stupid mistake. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. And I – ”

“What were you thinking about?”

“You,” Ian says as he traces the bandage with the fingers of his uninjured arm.

“Fuck off. Don’t blame me.” Mickey flicks the side of Ian’s head as he scoffs, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“The kid,” Ian continues. Twisting, Ian manages to move closer to Mickey. From their positioning, he’s able to press his hand against Mickey’s distended middle. “Thinking about the kid and you and…shit….I’m sorry. You’re right, I am an asshole for making you deal with my mistake. I…I got distracted and the next thing I know I’m staring at my hemorrhaging arm. There was so much blood. It was like…like my mom. And – ” He goes quiet, looking at Mickey with a twitch in the muscle between his eyebrows like he’s about to shatter.

“Don’t you dare do that,” Mickey scolds. He leans his forehead down and presses it into Ian’s. “You’re here. You’re not allowed to go anywhere.” The words come out of his mouth like they’re the final decree between them. “You scared the shit out of me. I just…I love you and I’m not really a fan of watching you bleed. So…in the future, do you think we can avoid that?”

“Yeah. We can avoid that.” Ian nods quickly, blinking just as fast and this time Mickey can see that Ian’s eyes are shinier than usual. “I…I’m sorry. You feeling alright? I mean, did you drag my ass here? The kid okay?”

“Don’t worry about us. We’re fine. I managed to half carry - half drag your ass to the car. The hospital staff took care of the rest. So…we’re fine. You’re fine too. The doctors said you could be released if your vitals are good and after they check the wounds and make sure the transfusion did the trick.” A ringing noise from the pile of Ian’s clothing cuts through the air. Mickey doesn't have to look at the phone to know who it is. “It’s your sister. She’s been calling non-stop all day. I didn’t want to pick up because I didn’t wanna say anything incase…you know…if…” Mickey shrugs and licks his lips.

“Yeah…I get it.” Ian’s smile is shaky. “You should get it. She called me last night and I never got back to her. I am sure she’s halfway out the door in a visit that she’s going to pretend isn’t one she’s making just to check on me.”

Knowing Ian’s probably right, Mickey disentangles himself from Ian’s hands and the bed. He yanks the phone out just in time, connecting the call right before it was about to be sent over to voicemail. The click of the call seems to startle Fiona.

“ _Ian!?_ ”

“Nah, it’s Mickey – ”

“ _Mickey? I thought I called Ian._ ”

“You did. He just couldn’t get to the phone at the moment.”

Fiona’s sigh comes across loud and clear. “ _Well can I talk to him? I’ve been calling all day. Where the fuck have you two been?_ ”

“The hospital,” Mickey blurts out.

“ _Hospital?_ ” Fiona’s voice practically squeaks with surprise. “ _You having the baby?_ ”

Mickey finds himself recoiling from the phone. It’s way too early for that. He’s still got eight weeks left before wrapping his head around that milestone. “No I – ”

Fiona is quick to cut him off. “ _You okay? The baby okay? Why are you there? Is –_ ”

“Well if you would slow the fuck down, I would be able to tell you.” With a snort, Mickey takes a seat in the chair again. “I’m fine. So is the kid. It’s Ian.” He hears Fiona rev herself up for another onslaught of questions. “And before you cut me of – Ian’s fine. Now. He had an accident at work. Needed stitches. He’s fine.” Mickey knows he’s downplaying things a little but from the look on relief on Ian’s face, he made the right move. “We’re going to head home. Ian wanted me to let you know. He’s sorry if you were worried but he couldn’t really get to the phone earlier.”

There isn’t a trace of the frustration that was originally heard in Fiona’s voice. Instead, she seems to have backpedaled and is full of understanding. “ _Oh my god. Yeah, no. It’s fine. I was just calling to make sure everything is okay. I guess it isn’t. But…you’re there. So…he’ll be okay?_ ”

Mickey presses the phone closer to his ear. “Yeah. I’m here. We’ll be okay.”

“ _Okay, yeah. So…can I do anything?_ ” Fiona pauses before quickly adding, “ _What a stupid question. Of course I can’t. I just…I’m really glad you’re there for him, Mickey. You know?_ ” Her voice cracks for a moment. There is something solid and heavy behind her words. “ _Take care of him?_ ”

For a moment Mickey thinks it’s an order but the silence lets him know that Fiona’s waiting for an answer. “Of course I will.”

Seemingly satisfied with the response, she makes an affirmative noise and after asking that Mickey call her when they get home, she’s off the phone. Mickey slips the device into his pocket beside his own phone and looks up at Ian.

Of course he’ll take care of him.

They’ve been doing that for each other all along.

***

Ian jolts up in bed, a film of sweat covering his naked torso. He gasping, taking huge gulps of air before he realizes it’s counterproductive and he switches over to slow vocalized breaths.

“Ian?” Mickey’s groggy voice comes from beside him. He pushes himself up on one arm looking all shades of pissed off. It had taken him away to get comfortable enough to sleep and up until two seconds ago he was using Ian like a human body pillow, snoring away. Now sleep is forgotten and he’s glaring at Ian.

Ian’s reaches out his good hand and squeezes Mickey’s. He can tell that his eyes probably look wild because Mickey’s pissed expression disappears.

“What?” Mickey says while rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Nothing.” Ian curls his fingers so that his nails can dig into the meat of Mickey’s palm. He wants to do the same with his other hand but it aches to flex the muscles sleeping under his healing skin. Holding on and breathing, he repeats himself. “Nothing. Just a dream. I…sorry I woke you.”

“It’s not _just_ a fucking dream. _Just_ a dream doesn’t have you practically jolting my ass out of bed.” Mickey squeezes Ian’s hand back. “Shit, you’re covered in sweat.”

“Yeah.” Ian swallows and blows out a calculated breath. “Nightmare. I’m fine. Really.” He wishes he could brush it all off but the dream threw him. He’s unsettled. Parts of his brain have to keep reminding him that none of the things he sees when he closes his eyes are real. He’s fine. The accident, while scary and painful, is taken care of. He’s healing. With their custom job finished up, Ian let Jason handle how to go about delivering the display cases and agreed that he and Mickey should take a few days off.

And Mickey? He’s been amazing. Great. Mickey’s been strong in ways that Ian thinks is good for the both of them. Of course, it’s good for Ian because he’d been a drugged out on pain killers mess when he first got home and thank god he had Mickey to take care of him. But there are other ways too. Ian thinks that taking care of him is a much needed reminder for Mickey that being pregnant doesn’t make him less of a pillar in their relationship.

It’s been good. The mistake was stupid but he’s learned from it.

The problems come when he closes his eyes and sees red. Ian doesn’t realize he must have closed to eyes again to see if the color is still there until he hears Mickey.

“Hey. Ian.” Mickey tugs his arm gently. “Hey, open your eyes.” When Ian finally meets his boyfriend’s gaze, Mickey asks, “What’s going on with you?”

Ian expected that he’d give Mickey an honest response but he didn’t expect it to come in the form of placing both hands on Mickey’s jaw and pulling him in to press their lips together. The connection is instantly calming. “I…I see my mom.” Mickey gives Ian a confused face. “In my dreams,” Ian clarifies. “But then it’s not my mom. I see me instead. And it’s totally different because you’re there. And this time you can’t help me. I bleed out all over you. I…I fucking die, Mick.” Now Ian can’t stop the words even if he wanted to. They tumble out. “It’s like a trigger and now I can’t stop thinking about it. It isn’t because I wanna do that. Shit…I fucking _do not_ want to do that. But…what if it happens? I just…I….” Ian swallows. “I think I need to make an appointment with my therapist because it’s fucking with my head. I know it’s in my head and I can get it out but…”

Mickey shushes him, pulling on Ian’s shoulders till they both fall back to the bed. They’re facing each other and Mickey scoots his body closer so they fit together like jagged puzzle pieces. “It’s in your head. Okay?” Mickey waits until Ian gives a small nod of his head. “You’ve got this. Just like you told me, right?” He takes Ian’s hands and places them flat on his chest. “Besides, I would _never_ let you die. So if you didn’t know it before, that dream is complete bull shit. We kinda need you.” He coasts one of Ian’s palms lower.

Ian feels like he’s fucking this up. He had it so together in the beginning of this pregnancy. But now Mickey’s turning the tables. If he looks at it for what it really is, Ian knows that he doesn’t feel like that fact is a blow to him ego. Instead, it feels like he’s riding a wave that’s going to get back to shore eventually. He can “man-up”, he knows he can, but a little part of him thinks that if he lets himself feel these things, then he’ll be able to deal with them now. If they rear their ugly head later, he’ll know how to best them. Palm absorbing the warmth of Mickey’s pregnant belly, Ian lets himself believe Mickey. He thinks it might be odd that touching the swell containing their child is so reassuring to him but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that the kid is proof of what they can do together. It’s cliché as hell but that doesn’t mean Ian doesn’t feel that way. The kid is quiet but Ian soaks up the presence between them and comes back down from his nightmare induced adrenaline kick. “You let me die then I’m coming back to haunt your ass.”

“Is that some kinky ghost sex thing?” Mickey cracks a smile.

“Do you want it to be?” Ian raises an eyebrow, slotting a leg between Mickey’s.

Mickey snorts. “Maybe in the morning, tough guy. ‘Cause I’m fucking tired and some asshole woke me up in the middle of the night over something I would never let happen.” But Mickey manages to get his lips close enough to Ian’s ear to whisper, “I’m right here.”

Ian knows he needs to see Dr. Pollack, but it doesn’t feel as urgent now. He brushes Mickey’s hair back and settles into his pillow. “I’m here too,” he sighs out.

Sleep comes faster then. Ian doesn’t know if he dreams about the color red during the remainder of the night. If he does, then he doesn’t remember it and that’s enough of a start for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so floored by your amazing comments. The action is picking up in the next chapters.  
> Honestly, the next chapter is pretty much sex...because Mickey's craving Ian's dick like never before. And I need them to have lots of sex.  
> But after that? woohoo...action.  
> I hope you're enjoying!


	16. Reprieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning...there be sex at the end of this chapter.

The morning is getting warmer by the minute and Mickey knows that he’s going to have to move eventually. Aside from the fact that the kid is pressing on his bladder and he’s admitted he’s getting to hot, Mickey’s comfortable. With his head resting on Ian’s chest, the small discomforts are manageable for now. He’d rather ignore them so that he can relish the fact that lying in bed with Ian always comes with a sense that everything can fall away. There are no pressing issues. It’s just simple and lazy; he wants to soak up a few more minutes of that. Ian’s heartbeat is loud and strong under him, almost lulling Mickey back to sleep, but he isn’t able to ignore his bladder situation enough to actually slip into unconsciousness.

Ian’s not asleep either. He’s slowly combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair. His breathing is soft and rhythmic in the silence of the morning but he lets out a content hum every now and then.

Mickey’s eyelids feel heavy. His own breath fans out across Ian’s chest and he sighs. The morning feels so easy, making it something worth living for. Truthfully, Mickey doesn’t mind working; it gives him a feeling of self-worth and something to do with himself. But mornings like this are why he works. He does everything so that he can have this type of peace. He’s been wanting more and more of this lately. And even though he’s fighting it, he knows that his days working are numbered for the time being. He’s tired. The kid is due to arrive in six weeks and Katie told him he can work as long as he feels able to, just as long as he’s not squeezing himself into tight spaces. Mickey promised her he wouldn’t push himself. He _knows_ he’s still capable of working at the moment, but he has to force himself to actually do it.

Taking his sweet ass time getting out of bed is way more appealing than work. Pressing closer to Ian, he managers to get some type of leverage with the balls of his feet and he presses forward so he can tilt his chin up and place a kiss on Ian’s jawline. “Mornin’,” he mumbles.

“Mornin’,” Ian parrots back, voice tinged with warmth. The muscles in his face shift when he grins and Mickey’s lips chase the new shape of his expression. Turning his head suddenly, he catches Mickey’s lips by surprise and draws out the seconds they stay connected in a closed mouth kiss.

Pushing against the balls of his feet once more, Mickey snags another kiss and then settles back to rest he head on Ian’s shoulder. In the past, they’ve ended up like this hundreds of times by morning. But usually Mickey’s practically belly down, flopped over Ian with Ian’s arms and legs ensnaring him. Now, it’s a bit different. Mickey’s pregnant belly is propped on Ian’s flat one. Once upon a time, he used to be able to flip them so that Ian’s head would be tucked safely in the crook of Mickey’s neck. That isn’t happening any time soon with the added bulk Mickey’s dealing with, but he figures they’ll get back to that one day. Right now, Mickey reasons he deserves letting his mind stop thinking so hard. They don’t always _need_ to be this close but it never fails to even them out.

Mickey must have groaned because he feels Ian’s hand stroking up his side soothingly. Before there is even a question, Mickey explains. “Gotta pee. Don’t wanna get up.” He lets himself melt into Ian as his boyfriend snuggles closer. Ian’s injured forearm is resting over the swell of his belly and Mickey manages to take a gentle hold of it, turning it so that his eyes can examine the healing wound there. His fingers trace over the area with light touches. Ian’s arm is exposed, free of bandages and the stitched up mended skin looks pink in the morning light. “How’s it feel?”

Ian shuffles his head closer to Mickey’s on the pillow, his lips dropping a kiss into Mickey’s hair and burying themselves there so he can inhale his boyfriend on every breath. He lets the full weight of his arm fall into Mickey’s care. “It’s alright. Hurts a little when I twist my wrist too much but the doc said the skin is knitting together the right way. Should be good as new soon.”

Mickey hums in acknowledgement, fingers still tracing wounds that are safely tied up. There is no blood seeping out but his gut still twists at the thought of how delicate Ian’s flesh was when it came apart. It’s a reminder that both of them are so breakable but somehow still strong enough to weather the things life has thrown them. Sighing, he pulls Ian’s arm so he can put a well-placed kiss on the forming scars. There will definitely be scars, but they’re not bad. Mickey thinks maybe they’ll be a reminder for Ian to be careful at work, because there is no way in hell something as simple as an accident at work is capable of taking Ian – and by default Mickey as well – down.

Ian’s whole body presses more tightly against Mickey’s with each kiss the older man gives the healing skin until there is no space between their worlds. Letting his arm fall away from Mickey’s lips, Ian uses his fingers to tip-toe over the naked skin of Mickey’s middle. His palm goes flat and he makes a sweeping U motion along the curve of the swell. “How’s this feel?” he whispers into Mickey’s hairline.

The kid reacts to Ian’s touch like it always does, like Ian and the kid are plotting against Mickey. It’s not even born and already it’s siding with Ian. The thought it daunting. The movement starts to become a little too much for him to ignore, despite how soothing Ian’s ministrations feel. “Ugh,” Mickey whines. “You’re not helping.” He tries to pull away from Ian but the man’s got a firm hold on him, looking confused. “Gotta pee, remember? You’re not helping by waking the kid up.”

“Shit, sorry,” Ian says quickly as he releases his boyfriend. It quickly becomes apparent that Mickey needs a little more help than that, so he untangles their limbs and helps yank Mickey into a sitting position so he can scoot off the edge of the bed.

Mickey takes care of business quickly enough, returning to the bed to find Ian buried under the blankets. His head is peaking out so that Mickey can see his face. He still looks sleepy despite the fact that they took advantage of staying in bed for most of my morning. A glass of water and Ian’s pill case are on the bedside table, so Mickey figures the redhead at least got up to take his morning dose of pills.

“Come back to bed,” Ian asks, sounding a little like he’s whining. He reaches a hand out and grabs for Mickey even though there are too many feet between them for actual contact.

“Nah, Ian, I can’t.” Mickey shakes his head, grimacing when he stretches his back and arches through a kink in his spine. “I don’t think I’d be able to get back up if I did.” He’s tempted though. Their bedding is meager at best but the sheets are clean and the mattress is comfortable. But none of those are the selling part for Mickey. It’s the fact that Ian is a boneless heap in the middle of the bed, looking way to inviting and if Mickey didn’t actually have a need to be out of the bed, he knows Ian would get his way. “I gotta meet a client this afternoon.”

The statement rouses Ian all at once; he sits up, taking half of the blankets with him, and rests against the headboard. His eyes blink to full wakefulness while he combs fingers through his hair to manage his bedhead. “Client?” He doesn’t sound pleased as he wrinkles his nose at the word.

“Ay, lay off. It’s fine.” Mickey pauses to rock back on his heels. He absentmindedly goes to shove his hands in his pockets but being that he’s wearing only boxer shorts, the action comes off as an awkward swinging of his hands. It’s not that he doesn’t want to share his plans with Ian, he actually planned on doing that, but saying it out loud feels like it makes things permanent and real. “It’s actually the last job I’m going to take until…well…you know,” he gestures to his middle, not saying the words for the same reasons. “And it’s kinda a dream job. I’d be working on a bare bone house this guy just had built. He’s looking for someone to lay all the electrical ground work while he and his wife are out of the state dealing with the sale of their old house. It’s good money, Ian. And it’s easy too since the drywall isn’t in place yet.” He pauses to observe Ian’s expression. “It’s stuff I can do. Okay? The power isn’t even live there yet.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he punches Ian’ gently in the shoulder, making the younger man rock back a fraction. “Don’t you have work to do today?”

“Work that doesn’t require me getting out of bed yet. I’m going in later. Perks of making my own hours.” Ian tugs at Mickey’s arm. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey shakes out of Ian’s hold with a laugh. “You’re like a five year old right now.”

Grinning, Ian tugs the blanket down to reveal his obviously adult male body. “I assure you, I’m _really not_.”

It’s a tempting picture and Ian’s playing dirty, using Mickey’s heightened libido to his advantage. Groaning, Mickey forces himself to stand again and turns his back on Ian so he can’t be distracted by his boyfriend. “I’m not doing much work today, just meeting the guy and seeing if he even wants to hire me. I swear, if he sees this belly and turns tail, I’m going to sock ‘im.”

Ian’s tone hinges on reprimanding. “And that would solve – ” Ian leaves the unfinished sentence hanging between them.

“Nothing. _I know_. But it would make me feel better.” He turns to flip his middle finger up in Ian’s direction before going about showering and getting ready to leave the house. Ian has breakfast waiting for him when he’s out of the bathroom, which Mickey wolfs down. He kisses Ian deep enough to get a taste of the coffee Ian must have drank and ducks out the door.

The house he’s meeting the perspective client at is a twenty minute drive from their apartment. He turns into a newly develop area with houses promising to be on the larger side. Whistling, he finds the house he’s looking for and pulls into the driveway. The owner is waiting for him outside, sitting on the bare wood steps leading up to the front door.

“Hi, you found it!” The man says with a friendly smile and a wave. “I wasn’t sure if the address was popping up on many of the GPS programs. It’s kinda new.”

“Yeah, not a problem.” Mickey gives the man a combination of a nod and smile as he walks up to the front of the house.

“Glad to hear it.” The man gets to his feet and reaches a hand towards Mickey. “I’m Robert, but you can call me Bobby. And you are – ” Robert’s words dwindle off as his eyes widen in realization of what he’s looking at when Mickey approaches. He ends up finishing with, “you’re pregnant.”

“I seem to get that a-fucking-lot. Yeah. I am.” Mickey licks his lips, standing his ground as he stretches out a hand to take the one Robert is still holding dumbly in front of him. “I’m Mickey.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” Robert composes himself and shakes his head. “It’s kind of surprising, I guess. I mean…I know I’m judging a book by its cover here, so I’m sorry. It’s just that Derek didn’t tell me you were pregnant.”

“Derek?” The wheels in Mickey’s head spin and come up with nothing.

“Yeah. Derek. He’s my nephew. You did some work for him a few months back. That’s how I got your number actually. You come highly recommended.” Smiling, Robert runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry if I offended you. I hadn’t thought of the idea of pregnant electricians, though obviously that’s bound to happen, right? And if Derek recommends you, then I know you’ve got to be good. He’s kind of particular about things.”

The lightbulb finally goes off in Mickey’s head. “Oh! _Derek_. Yeah, I…I did a few things for him and his husband when they redid their kitchen. Yeah, good guy.” Mickey nods.

“Yeah, he’s my favorite nephew. True, he’s my _only_ nephew, but that’s beside the point.” Robert laughs at his own joke. “Come on in. Let me show you the place and what I have planned. You tell me if it’s something you think you’d feel like doing.”

Mickey took comfort in the fact that they were getting back to the business at hand. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

The two men entered the house. Robert hadn’t been kidding when he said the house was barebones. The structures are in place but for the most part, it is a blank canvas. Mickey gets the basic tour, Robert pointing out which areas of the house are designated as specific rooms. The job is the kind that gets the drive in Mickey’s brain working overtime. It’s a blank slate. Though he’s been craving more sedentary time lately, Mickey’s always had to occupy himself with _something_. When he was younger, that _something_ was usually associated with trouble. Now, however, he hones that need towards something more productive. The prospect of working in the house gives him a tug in his gut and a jolt that borders on excitement.

Robert leads them through the house and Mickey realizes the only rooms that seem mostly finished are the bathrooms. There are two full sized ones and a half bath that are decked out. The master bath has an impressive whirlpool tub, with plenty of room built around it. He must have voiced his realization out loud because Robert is nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, I guess that’s a little backwards, right? But I was planning on staying here when the electricity is up and running. I don’t mind sleeping on an air mattress, but a working bathroom is a must. The water is all hooked up, I just don’t have light in here. I was hoping you could help with that. Besides, the bathrooms are the easy part to do. It’s the rest of the house that is giving me a headache.”

“Huh?” Mickey looks up from dragging his finger along the edge of the tub.

“My wife and I…we were looking to do some custom cabinets in the kitchen and built in furniture in the bedrooms. We’ve just been a little consumed with selling our other house that we haven’t gotten a chance to check out any local people who fit the bill of what we’re looking for.”

“I might know a guy for that,” Mickey blurts out without really thinking. He realizes he’s jumping at the chance to get Ian on the job as well but it’s not solely for the promise of a bigger paycheck. Initially, it’s because he knows Ian is perfect for the job. But his ulterior motives swim a little deeper than that. Since his accident, Mickey’s been watching Ian like a hawk. Ian’s been true to his word, going to see his therapist and monitoring how he’s feeling a little more diligently. Still, it puts Mickey at ease to see for himself the evidence that Ian’s okay. And, working together on the lighted display cases had been _nice_. He’s blaming the kid completely for the fact that he enjoys the comradery of a partner during the work day. It’s a new feeling for him because he always enjoys the independence he’s awarded when working out in the field. But the kid is doing weird things to his brain and his body has a happier thrum to it when he knows that Ian’s nearby. The fact is true, but it still makes Mickey cringe. He has no idea when his frame of mind shifted but the kid kicks him and that’s all he needs to be reminded that a lot has changed since he found out he is pregnant. Some changes sucked, but a lot of them weren’t so bad. He could live with them. There is another uncomfortable jab to his insides and he winces. “Oouf.”

Robert turns around and looks at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. We’re good. Kid just wants attention.” Mickey rubs at his side. “So, anyway, you were saying about someone to build cabinets and shit,” Mickey catches himself cursing and checks Roberts face for clues to how the man feels about the face. Robert doesn’t look like he’s judging him but he does make an almost undetectable flinch. “Cabinets and _stuff_ ,” Mickey corrects. “I think I know someone who is up to the job.”

Robert hears the question but takes a detour. “When are you due?”

“Six weeks. But…” Mickey licks his lips and crosses his arms over his chest. They fall to rest on his belly which counteracts any type of show of strengths that Mickey’s going for. “My doctor knows what I do for a living. Jus’ saw her yesterday. She says I’m good to work right up till the end if I want. And I can handle this job. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Considering the words, Robert leans against a bare post. “And baby’s other father…he’s okay with that?”

The question makes Mickey bristle up. It’s none of Robert’s business what anyone thinks other than Mickey himself. Mickey allows himself one frustrated snort before tamping down the outburst he’s seconds away from having. “I _can_ do this. I’m _fine_. I’m gonna have a baby in a few weeks, not succumb to some terminal cancer.” Narrowing his eyes just enough to show he’s sincere, Mickey reels back enough so that he doesn’t cost himself the job. Underneath, he gets it. This house is Robert’s baby and he’s just trying to make sure Mickey’s baby doesn’t cause either of them trouble. “The other father…he trusts me. He’s okay with me taking jobs. He’s actually the guy I was going to suggest to you. He does custom carpentry.” Mickey pulls out his phone and quickly pulls up a picture he took of the display cases they just completed. “Here.”

Robert takes the phone. The minute his eyes land on it, his eyebrows arch upward. “Wow” Turning the phone horizontally, he enlarges the picture. “Nice work.” Finished, he holds the phone back towards Mickey.

“Yeah, we worked on them together. They’re lit up on the inside.” There is pride in his voice and there damn well should be. He and Ian had created something gorgeous and he’s not above letting Robert know that. Taking the phone back, he realizes Robert must have swiped his finger left because the screen is on a stupid selfie Ian took of them after they finished the first display case. Ian’s covered in sawdust from drilling a place for the recess lighting and Mickey’s scowling at him because Ian leaning in to kiss his temple had just showered them both in wood shavings. Robert must have seen it – had definitely seen it – based on the soft smile he now has on his lips. “Yeah, so…Ian and I make a pretty good team. I think he’s what you’re looking for. If you wanna meet him – ”

“Is he able to come down now? I’d like to show him the house too. Since you’re here…it would probably be easier.” The older man smiles wider.

“Yeah, I can call him.” Mickey’s fingers are already dancing over the keypad of his phone. “If he’s able to come – which I think he is – then while we wait we can make a detailed list of what you want done and we can draw up an estimate so you can think it over.”

Robert is quiet for a second. He scratches at the gray stubble on his chin and lets his shoulder’s drop. “Mickey,” he starts slowly, “I hope you didn’t misunderstand. Like I said, Derek highly recommended you. I just wanted to make sure this job wouldn’t be too much for you, considering you’re having a baby soon. If your doctor says it’s okay, then a medical opinion is good enough for me. I don’t think I could live with myself if anything happened to that baby because of my decision to hire you. I _really_ hope you understand that. My hesitance has nothing to do with you personally. I kinda get the feeling that you’re taking it that way.”

Mickey blinks, not sure with the fact that Robert has no problem calling a spade a spade. “Yeah. I am. But…I’m also not. I know where you’re coming from. It’s your house, you’ve gotta do whatever you feel is right with it. I’m just getting a little tired of people seeing me as a pregnant person instead of an electrician who is also pregnant. And I think maybe the kid is fucking with – _messing with_ – me lately. So…It’s fine man. I get it.”

“Good. So then, let’s see about the price quote then, hmm? The builder had some guy in here but his quote was, quite frankly, ridiculous. You do better than him, and the job is yours.” He clapped Mickey on the shoulder and walked down the hall, making a smooth transition into describing what he wants done with the place. Mickey makes a quick call to Ian, explaining the situation. He can practically see the smile in Ian’s voice when he tells his boyfriend that they could potentially be working together for a couple of weeks.

By the time Ian gets to the house, Mickey and Robert are sitting at folding table, drawing up some papers.

“About damn time,” Mickey snorts but he’s smiling when he does it. He stands up follows the magnetic pull towards Ian. The connection they share is a quick shy brushing of hands, a secret smile, and a dancing of Ian’s fingertips over Mickey’s belly. When they pull apart again, they are wrapped up tightly in the air of professionalism. “Robert, this is Ian,” Mickey says as he leads Ian towards the man who will hopefully be their new employer.

“Hi, Ian. It’s nice to meet you. Mickey’s shown me a bunch of your work.” Robert shakes Ian’s hand. “Impressive stuff.”

“Thanks. It’s a nice little business I’ve been building from scratch. I brought more examples of what I do, if you’d like to see.” Ian gestures towards a folder tucked under his arm.

Mickey lets Ian start talking a mile a minute, going off with Robert so the homeowner can explain what he’s looking for. Mickey doesn’t need to follow them, he knows that Ian’s perfect. It’s not going to take Robert long to figure that out to. Ian’s the best Milwaukee has to offer. For the meantime, Mickey’s happy to sit for a while.

When the two men return, Robert takes a seat at the table again. “Well, it looks like we better be making up two contracts.” He smiles at Mickey. “If that’s okay with you. Because, what I’m thinking is, I give you two complete access to the house while I’m out in Ohio with my wife selling our other house. By the time I return, I assume you will be mostly done here. Sound good?”

Mickey’s a bit shocked if he’s being honest. He’s been trusted to work in people’s homes before, but usually the client is there when he starts and they check in periodically. It still makes his head spin when he realizes that he isn’t who is was in his youth. It’s not so absurd that someone would trust him because he’s grown into someone who _can_ be trusted. Still, the feeling is a new fit and it’s taking time for Mickey to get used to it. “Sounds great, actually.”

“Good.” Robert gives Ian a smile and then turns a new one towards Mickey. “I went over everything I was looking for with Ian. Turns out, I don’t know a thing about woodwork. But I guess that’s why I hire the professional.” There is a pause before he concludes with, “I think my house is in good hands with you and your husband.”

Robert’s choice of wording hits Ian and Mickey at the same time. They understand the assumption, and it’s an honest mistake, but they haven’t heard that exact wording before. It’s not where they’re going right now but neither of them flinch from it.

Neither of them correct it either.

***

Ian has had a plan going in his head from the first day he and Mickey started work on Robert’s house. The ideas practically presented itself to him with giant neon arrows flashing around it.

He smirks when he thinks of the fact that Mickey’s been surprising him in new ways every day. He doesn’t feel like spelling it out for Mickey that he’s noticed because that won’t go over well. Mickey is going through some physically taxing things, but he’s been a rock. And even though Mickey’s so fixated on being strong and not give into whining about his discomfort, Ian can tell. He knows Mickey’s back is bothering him, which makes sense considering the weight he’s carrying. Ian wishes he could do more about that than just rub the kinks out of Mickey’s back when they’re lying in bed.

So when Ian discovers the huge bathroom that is standing unused in the middle of Robert’s house, he thinks it’s a sign. It seems like a shame that the tub will go unused for weeks while the new homeowners are away in Ohio when he and Mickey are two perfectly good candidates.

No one would have to know.

But it takes Ian a few days to figure out how he can actually fit using the tub into his plans.

Ian’s glad that Jason seems to have a good handle on helping out with some of his most commonly produced pieces. It allows him the freedom to spend more time on the house project. Each day that passes, Ian realizes that hiring the man was one of the smartest decisions he’s made.

They spent the first few days making a plan of attack. There is a lot of work to be done in the house. Mickey was right when he said it was a dream job to work on. Once he and Mickey decide that Mickey’s going to start wiring rooms while Ian gets the designs planned and materials purchased. By the time he’s ready to start building, Mickey will have finished several of the rooms. For the first few days, Ian’s popping in more than actually working in the house. Once he gets started, however, he’s there just as much as Mickey is.

It’s perfect.

He gets to watch Mickey work, which is a sight to be seen. It’s cute sometimes, the way he curses out the wires or tools that don’t seem to behave the way he wants them to. Mostly, it’s nice to see that Mickey’s safe and sound. He’s taking extra precautions because Ian’s sure Mickey would be able to finish some of the jobs quicker if he wasn’t pregnant.

They rarely work in the same room, since they’d just get in each other’s way, but Ian’s caught Mickey leaning against a doorframe watching him, like he’s doing now. “How's your arm?” Mickey asks as he swipes a thumb over his lower lip, dragging it downward.

“Arm’s good,” Ian says, wiping the back of his hand across the sweat building across his forehead. “Why? You worried?” From his place crouched on the ground, he grins up at Mickey a little too knowingly.

“Fuck off,” Mickey says with a roll of his eyes. He walks over to Ian and ruffles his hair, holding his hand there. “Look, I’m going to step out for a while. Go see Katie to talk more about the baby crap and shit. Alright?”

“Want me to go with?” Ian offers.

“Nah, I’m good. I don’t need you coming to hear Katie school me on how to push this kid out. I’d kinda like it if you to still want to screw me after all that, fuck you very much. I don’t think you need to hear all about it.”

Ian hadn’t expected his boyfriend’s response to revolve around their sex life. “Keep the mystery alive, huh?”

“You know what I mean,” Mickey says. “I’m uncomfortable enough thinking about myself giving birth. I don’t want it freaking you out too.” Turning to Ian, his tone grows serious. “I swear to god, you still better want to fuck me. Because if you don’t – ” Pausing as if not sure how to end the threat, he looks at Ian, a conflicted look on his face.

“Hey,” Ian gets to his feet. He puts a hand on each of Mickey’s shoulders and twists him so that the man is square with his own body. “Of course I’m going to want to keep fucking you. Fucking you has gotten me – us – into a lot of trouble.” Taking a step forward, he presses his lips to Mickey’s, holding them there while he tilts his head and lets their foreheads connect. He knows that sometimes the trouble they got into wasn’t good in anyway, but whatever happened to them, it somehow brought them to this point in their life. And he likes who they are today. _Loves it_. “I’m going to keep wanting to get in trouble with you. I’m going to keep wanting to fuck you. Okay?” He allows his words to sink in and gives another kiss before repeating the question. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Mickey practically whispers. He pulls Ian’s hips so he has to stumble closer. “Just making sure.”

Ian laughs at the way Mickey says the last words, as if he’s suddenly not worried at all. “Go. I’ve got things handled here. But tell Katie I offered to come so that she doesn’t think I’m some asshole who knocked you up and forgot all about you.”

“Well, it would be hard for her to think that…considering you show up on her doorstep as much as I do. It’s probably a good thing that we’re gay because David might get the wrong idea about us.” Mickey laughs.

“Yeah, _that_ is why it’s a good thing we’re gay,” Ian teases. “You coming back afterwards?”

“Figured I would. Wanna work on the recess lighting in the kitchen when I get back?” Mickey pulls out of Ian’s hold, trailing his fingers over the scar on his arm.

“Sounds good. Say hello to Katie.” With a nod and a smile, he pulls away and resumes the crouching position Mickey found him in. He finishes laying out the pieces he’s going to use to start building the upper bank of cabinets in the kitchen. It doesn’t take long to measure things out, but he’ll save actually cutting them for later.

With Mickey gone, it gives Ian enough time to put his plan into action. He’s not sure exactly how long he’s got, but he retrieves the duffle he’d snuck into the back of his truck when Mickey wasn’t looking.

Since Robert’s house isn’t decked out with bathroom linens and toiletries, Ian’s had to bring some of his and Mickey’s. He’s packed a few towels, soap and shampoo. He’s also putting his life on the line by packing something sudsy to bubble up the tub water. The label says it’s supposed to be relaxing and Ian might have gotten a little wrapped up in believing the claim on the packaging.

Ian’s also packed lube, which now seems perfect considering Mickey’s earlier concern.

Taking the bag to the bathroom, he unpacks it quickly. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, he finds himself with nothing to do. It makes him nervous, like there is something bubbling under his skin.

He wonders what Mickey is talking about right now with Katie. He smiles to himself when he envisions Mickey squirming in a chair. It’s funny how Mickey always gives himself away with little tells like that. He wishes Mickey didn’t feel that he had to do that, wishes he had enough confidence in himself but he realizes that then Mickey wouldn’t be _Mickey_. He also wishes Mickey didn’t squirm like that because there's no reason for it. Whatever Katie is telling him, Ian knows that Mickey’s going to be able to handle everything. The distended middle growing bigger every day is proof of that. Mickey’s helping their kid grow up strong, a fighter already.

For a long time, Ian wasn’t sure what he wanted in life. It took forever to find his place somewhere but working on this house with Mickey feels perfect. He loves building furniture but navigating their way through figuring out how to work together has taught him more about what he wants out of life. He wants to make long lasting beautiful things that make people happy. He want’s Mickey. He want’s their kid.

Having them all in one room makes his chest feel tighter, like maybe his heart is a smidge bigger.

Being lost in thought allows Ian to lose track of time as well. His brain has been thinking about the differences between the first time he and Mickey fucked and the sex that he hopes they’re going to have.

“Yo, Ian, where are you?” Mickey’s voice echoes through the empty house.

Getting to his feet, Ian makes quick work of turning the taps on for the tub, letting it start to fill with warm water. He splashes his fingers through it to double check the temperature before following the sounds of Mickey’s voice. “I’m right here.” Stepping into the hall, he finds Mickey giving the pieces of wood Ian had laid out the once over. He’s rocking back on his heels, trying to get the whole picture.

“Looks good.”

“Thanks,” Ian says, standing beside him.

“Where were you?” Mickey asks.

Instead of answering, Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and pulls him so that he’s forced to follow. “Come with me.” When they get to the bathroom door, he pauses and turns to Mickey. “Okay, listen…hear me out...” he starts, perhaps a little overly dramatic about the whole thing. He pushes the door open, making the rushing sound of water more obvious. “There is a perfectly good bathtub sitting in here, large enough to hold four people. And we’ve been working so hard. I thought that we could – ” Ian doesn’t get a chance to finish before Mickey cuts him off.

“Hell yes.” He’s already stepping into the room, fingers working to unbutton his jeans.

That makes Ian’s eyes pop wider. He wasn’t expecting things to be so easy. “Yeah?”

“Ian, I’ve been eyeing that tub since I set foot in this house.” Mickey grins, tugging off his shirt. “I’m sore in a lot of places right now and soaking in that tub until I’m a wrinkled mess sounds fucking fantastic.” He gives leering glance over Ian’s form. “Why are you still dressed?”

The question shocks Ian into motion and he trips over himself trying to yank his shirt upwards. He pulls down his jeans before toeing off his shoes and they get stuck in a clumsy display while he pitches forward and catches himself on Mickey’s shoulders. Mickey’s eagerness to get naked caught him off guard and now Ian finds himself feeling unpracticed in actually disrobing.

Mickey snorts and shakes his head. “How long were you thinking about this?”

“Almost as long as you have.” Managing to rid himself of his clothing, Ian gives Mickey a smile. The air in the house isn’t cold but their sudden nudity causes a shiver to run through them. Twisting, Ian grabs the bottle of bubble bath he set on the edge of the tub and pours some directly into the running water, causing suds to foam up and float throughout the tub.

“What are you doing?”

Ian shrugs, shutting the taps and sitting on the titled area built up around the tub. “It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Mickey raises his eyebrows and scowls. “I’m not a fucking princess. I don’t need flowers and aromatherapy.”

“Just get in the damn tub.” Ian orders with a deadpan stare.

Mickey listens, sinking into the warm water with a content sigh. Once he’s fully submerged, everything fades away and the features in his face soften. “This is fucking awesome.”

That’s the type of contentment Ian’s been hoping he would hear in Mickey’s voice. With a satisfied smirk, he flips his legs over the side of the tub and sinks down beneath the water. “Wait, hold on,” he says, twisting to give a go at operating the whirlpool functions. He gets it right on the first try, changing the stillness of the tub to one filled with currents of water. Satisfied, he reclines against the wall of the tub, arms stretched on each side of the edge to support him so he's submerged just the perfect amount. Using one leg, he knocks his heel into Mickey’s thigh. It doesn’t take much prodding before Mickey gets the hint, situating himself between Ian’s splayed legs so he can recline with his back resting against Ian’s chest.

They’re comfortably quiet for several minutes, settling into the warmth. Head falling back so his chin points towards the ceiling, Mickey sighs. With a deep inhale, he lets out, “Okay…this was a good idea. Even with your lame bubbles.”

"I'm glad you think so, but leave my bubbles alone," Ian says with an attempt to sound hurt. He allows his own head to fall back, letting out a breath. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Mickey huffs out a thank you and closes his eyes.

They fall into a perfect moment of relaxation. The jets help the water hit areas on Ian’s body, kneading out the tension there. He hopes they’re doing the same for Mickey, but just in case they’re not doing a good enough job of it, Ian’s hands find Mickey’s shoulders, massaging them. The angle is awkward, the job he does makes Mickey practically purr. Eventually, the massaging moves downward, coasting hands over Mickey’s sides and tucking behind the dark haired man's back so Ian can roll his fingertips into the knots of muscle there.

“Shit, yes.” Mickey’s voice is gravely and he arches so Ian can reach behind him better.

“Good, huh?”

“Yeah. My back has been killing me. _This?_ This is awesome.”

Ian’s hands change tactics. One stays on Mickey’s spine, but the other curls around so he can softly rub over Mickey’s middle. He can feel their kid inside, but there isn’t much movement, just a comforting weight in his palm. Mickey rolls his hips, inadvertently causing his ass to rub against Ian’s dick. “Fuck, Mick. You keep moving like that and…”

“And what?” Mickey teases, pushing his ass back in a more calculated move.

Groaning, Ian ducks his head down and presses kisses into the exposed areas of Mickey’s neck and collar bone. “And we’re going to have to hope that Robert doesn’t care that the two men he hired to work on his house had dirty,” he kisses behind Mickey’s ear, whispering there, “filthy,” another kiss lands on the jawbone there, “sex in his tub.”

“Like you didn’t fucking plan that,” Mickey scoffs. He pushes his back into Ian more firmly so that he has enough resistance to lift his hips and slide them back down. He covers the hand Ian has resting on his belly with his own and changes his boyfriend’s course of action by urging it downward.

Ian’s powerless to resist so he does the only thing he can by following the lines of Mickey’s body until he reaches the older man’s twitching arousal. His fingers wrap around it, stroking it slowly. “Totally planned it. Got a problem with that?” Ian’s lips keep mouthing at Mickey’s jaw, and when Mickey finally turns his head so they can kiss properly, he swallows down the moans building between them. There is absolutely no sign of a problem and that makes him smile into the kiss.

The positioning isn’t great, but Ian finds a way to both kiss the breath out of Mickey and build up a faster rhythm with his fist. One of his hands is still sandwiched between their bodies where he left it on Mickey’s spine. When Mickey moans and lifts his hips, Ian takes advantage of the opportunity and slips it down so it can explore the area between Mickey’s ass cheeks. By now, Ian can prep Mickey better than he can get himself off. He manages to tease Mickey’s entrance as a warning before working it inside him. Mickey groans in pleasure, the noise fanning the arousal building in Ian’s gut. They’re both loose and pliable from their time in the water and Ian manages to force Mickey forward just enough so that he can add another finger to the mix and scissor them. “Can you get up for just a second?”

The haze of arousal leaves Mickey confused for a second but he does as he’s told anyway, allowing Ian to slip out from under him. It’s not that Ian really wants to move, but he does want to fuck his boyfriend and lube will help that. He’d picked up a new bottle of silicone lube so he could do just that without having to get out of the water. He slicks his dick up quickly, splashing down into the water roughly enough that a wave washes over the side of the tub. Mickey’s on his knees, ready for the moment when Ian sank back into the tub. “Shit, Mick,” Ian gasps, realizing Mickey's rocking backwards, making an awkward reach to line Ian’s dick up so that he can penetrate himself on it.

The movement of Mickey’s body causes the water to splash over the sides in erratic waves. Neither of them care. Ian arches back, holds onto the sides of the tub again and lets Mickey sink his hips down. The tub makes it complicated, but Mickey does an impressive job of riding Ian’s dick. Their positioning has the benefit of making Mickey's belly a non-issue, incapable of getting in their way. Water hitting the floor titles, the echoes in the bathroom almost drowned out by the moans leaving Mickey’s parted lips. Mickey’s hips drop at a faster pace, the force and angle allowing Ian’s dick to brush parts deep inside Mickey that only the two of them realize the full power of.

Ian’s eyes flutter. The feeling of being inside Mickey makes Ian’s heart skip a beat and a rush of heat hit his cheeks. Watching Mickey ride him like that, hands slipping against the surface of the tub’s floor as he struggles to find some support, is doing wicked things to Ian’s arousal. He’s being spoiled by the treatment, loving the way their bodies connect.

“You gonna fucking help or do I have to do all the work?” Mickey pants, seating himself on Ian’s cock and rolling his hips.

Growling playfully, Ian pushes forward. He keeps himself buried in Mickey while their bodies shift and Mickey is forced onto his knees. The new position makes Mickey hold onto the edge of the tub, his upper body reaching out over the side when Ian pulls himself upward on his own knees and starts to pound into him. “This enough _help_ for you?” Ian gets a firm hold around Mickey’s waist, palm spread around the curve of Mickey’s belly. Hips snapping, he makes deliberately slow and thorough thrusts before eliciting a grunt from Mickey when he quickens the pace. The fluctuation between quick and slow keeps Mickey on edge, but every time he bottoms out they both make a sound like all the air has gone out of their lungs.

Watching Mickey ride him was hot as hell, but the way Mickey’s starting to unravel at every thrust of Ian’s hips is somehow better. Ian’s knees slide in the water and he tumbled forward, resulting in him being engulfed in Mickey in an instant. His dick is throbbing, building to a precipice he’s going to hurdle off of. It reminds him that Mickey’s probably in the same boat so he finds a way to help his boyfriend out, curls a fist around the arousal bobbing between his legs. Stroking to the pace of his hips, Ian bites his bottom lip. “You close?”

“Ye-yeah. Jus’ shut up and keep fucking me.” Mickey’s goes slack jaw, his eyes closing and he growls. “Come on,” he says, sounding like he’s barely held together.

And Ian does. He keeps going until he thinks more water has splashed onto the floor than is left in the tub. He usually waits till Mickey gets off before coming, but he can’t stop himself this time. He lets himself go, drowning under a wave of pleasure and gasping noises of pleasure that sound a lot like Mickey’s name. “Oh, shit.” Hips stuttering, he groans as the orgasm rips through him and he comes as deeply inside Mickey as he can.

Mickey takes over again, rocking forward so Ian slips out a fraction but he’s pushing backwards quickly. He only needs to repeat the action two more times before a litany of curses leave his lips and ropes of come release into the soapy water. They aftermath of their coupling leaves them shuddering through the blown circuits their orgasms triggered.

They’re frozen like that for a while, both unable to move despite the cramping creeping up their legs. Slowly, Ian pulls out to sit back on his heels. He collapses against the side of the tub for the third time that day, Mickey following suit immediately, landing beside Ian.

While they catch their breath, they share glances at each other, finding both of their eyes lust blown. The air seems thin in the room because their lungs have a hard time returning to normal.

Surveying the area, Mickey laughs. “We fucking ruined the place.”

Craning his neck, Ian gets a look for himself. “Nah, it’s just wet. It’ll dry. That’s what bathrooms are for right?”

“For fucking your pregnant boyfriend?”

“Yeah. For that. That’s probably why Robert had this tub installed in the first place. Just in case the hot electrician he hired needs his boyfriend to fuck him.”

Mickey laughs louder, knocking his shoulder into Ian. Then he turns his eyes back to the tub they’re sitting it. “Well the hot electrician needs help getting out of here because soaking in this jizzy water isn’t exactly sexy.”

“Says the person who jizzed in it.”

“Shut up.” Mickey flips Ian off, struggling to get up and slipping back down before he’s lifted himself more than a few inches. “I let you come in my ass, so would you fucking help me,” he grumbles.

Mickey has a point. The water has grown cooler and getting out seems like a good idea. Ian manages to put his feet under him and helps Mickey out, throwing a towel in his direction.

“Thanks,” Mickey says as he towels off. “We’ve got this house for another two weeks. And I think we should end all our workdays relaxing in that tub.”

“That’s a challenge I’ll accept.” Ian wraps a towel around his waist. “But I don’t think Robert will appreciate it if all we do is install the dimmer switch in the bathroom so we can have sex in more romantic lighting.”

“Hey, I’m the one who is ahead of schedule. I can let you catch up if you want. The kid didn’t seem to mind when I was sitting on my ass relaxing in the tub.”

Ian doesn’t have a response to that because he knows he’d let Mickey do that without giving him a hard time. If their kid wants to soak in a tub, then that’s what Ian wants Mickey to do. Right now, however, he wants to get dressed and soak up the mess they left on the floor.

If they want a chance of a repeat performance tomorrow, he really has to get some work done tonight. And he’s also going to have to find a way to get the smell of sex out of the space because he doesn’t need Robert and his wife to have any regrets about hiring him and Mickey.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter is baby time.  
> I am loving all your comments. They are so amazing! I am flattered to the core.


	17. Impact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is graphic birth in this. Yep, I went there. Because nothing about them has been sugar coated and I am not going to start that now. I hope you like it. :-)

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey curses under his breath as he shoots upright in bed. His eyebrows furrow close together while discomfort courses through him. His middle feels tight, a pain radiating from his lower back and reaching around towards the front of his swell. He looks to his left and sees Ian sprawled out on his stomach, grumbling a little at the disturbance caused by Mickey pulling away but he's still dragged down by sleep. Mickey doesn’t remember falling asleep; the last thing he can recall is bitching to Ian about how hard it was to get comfortable. In response, Ian had to go and be a little shit by shutting Mickey up with kisses, making it impossible for Mickey to voice his complaints. Ian’s hands managed to course over him, relaxing him so much that Mickey figures he must have fallen asleep in a weird position because everything hurts. He puts a palm to the small of his back and groans. The pain makes a sudden reappearance and Mickey pitches forward, bracing himself by putting both hands down on the area of mattress between his spread legs. His palms meet damp fabric, a wetness that must spread in a wider circumference because he can feel it at the tip of his fingers. He gasps, realizing what is actually happening. “Aw, fuck!” His heartrate speeds up and pounds so that it’s difficult to hear the noises he’s making trying to breath. Smacking out to hit Ian with the back of his hand, he turns. “Ian.” He’s not sure why his voice is so quiet, he’d intended for it to come out louder. “Ian,” he tries again, landing another smack to his boyfriend’s back.

Ian groans, shifting in the bed likes he’s trying to swim to the middle of the mattress.

“Ian!” Mickey yells.

This time, Ian wakes enough to find the power of speech. “What?”

“My water broke.”

Reaching out an arm, Ian tries to wrap it around Mickey’s waist. “Uh huh, okay.” He makes a sleepy smacking of his lips. “I’ll get you a new one tomorrow.”

Mickey snorts, blinking his eyes at his boyfriend, who has apparently turned out to be useless. “Ian, wake the fuck up!” This time, Mickey kicks him. “My fucking water broke.”

This seems to do the trick. “What?” Ian says, wide eyed and blinking. He gets tangled in the sheets, floundering until he’s sitting up and staring through the darkness at Mickey. “Your water broke?” He twists so he can turn on the bedside lamp. Light filters into the room, helping him get a good look at the way Mickey’s chest is rising and falling and how he has a hand pressed to his middle. The sheets he’s resting on are darkened and wet. It’s almost comical the way the realization hits Ian all at once and his jaw drops. “Your water broke!”

“Yeah, no shit!”

Flipping onto his knees, Ian puts both hands on Mickey, moving them like he’s searching for some verification that Mickey’s okay.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mickey scoffs with a curl of his lip.

“Are you okay? Is there supposed to be that much? Is that normal? I mean…” Ian shakes his head and swallows. “I dunno what I mean. Just…are you okay?”

“Considering I’m sitting in baby juices? Just fan-fucking-tastic.” Mickey shifts his hips and doesn’t know what to do. He wants to get out of the bed and away from the gross fluids his body decided to release without warning but that means he’d have to stand and that seems less desirable at the moment because Mickey’s lightheaded. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. There really isn’t a reason to be. He’s known what the endgame would be and that he was rapidly approaching it. Yet, here he is, sitting in the bed staring at the evidence that his water broke. He knew that would happen eventually but it’s still shocking to him because that and the pain he’s experiencing means he’s in labor – a concept that makes sense on paper but seems alien when applied to him. So while he knew this would happen, it still manages to take him by surprise because he hadn’t expected the kid to speed up the timeline. Flipping through the dates he’s kept track of in his head, Mickey realizes that the kid isn’t supposed to make an appearance for another four weeks. “Shit.” Ian’s crowding him, doing that searching thing with his hands again. “Kid’s early.” There is a panic building behind Mickey’s words. He’s got it in control for the moment but he’s not sure how much longer that will be the case.

“Yeah. I realized.” Ian holds Mickey’s face in his hands and forces him to look at him. “But lots of babies come early, and they’re fine. Liam and Debbie were born early.” He pauses to let his words sink in and takes a deep calming breath. Whether he means to or not, Mickey copies him, making their exhale happen at the same time. “We’ll call Katie. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

Mickey wants to agree but the moment doesn’t feel so _fine_. His middle cramps up and he lets out a deep grunting sound from the back of his throat. Hands flying to each side of his belly, Mickey stares down like it’s betraying him. “Okay, _that’s_ a contraction.” The jolt of pain is enough to knock the last thread of denial out of him. It’s his turn to sound dumbfounded when he says, “I’m in labor.”

“I thought we established that.” Ian puts a hand between the ones Mickey’s holding to his middle, feeling the tighter muscles underneath.

“I was hoping I just kinda pissed the bed.”

Ian wrinkles his nose but laughs out, “you’re disgusting.”

“Your ass is sitting in the same stuff as mine, so…” Mickey lets the thought fade and grabs for his cellphone to dial Katie’s number. It rings for a long time before going to voicemail. Growling, Mickey disconnects the call and dials again. This time, a very sleepy sounding Katie grumbles into the phone.

“ _Hello_?”

“It’s Mickey,” is all he manages to get out.

“ _Mickey?!_ ” Katie’s voice seems more awake but each syllable still bears the confused questioning inflection.

Normally, Mickey would apologize for waking her up; they’re friendly enough for that type of consideration. He doesn’t bother with it because Katie had told him to call for any reason and to _definitely_ call when he starts feeling contractions. “Kid wants out.”

There is silence for a moment while Katie digests the statement. “ _What’s going on? And don’t bullshit me Mickey, I need details._ ”

“Contractions. Water broke probably about 20 minutes ago,” Mickey holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder so he can keep both hands on his stomach.

“ _Your water broke?_ ” Katie says, sounding more shocked than anything. “ _How bad are the contractions?”_

“Not bad. Just...startling. Uncomfortable. But I’ve had worse… _much worse_.” Mickey’s tone switches from courageous to concerned. “It’s four weeks early.”

Katie’s voice is more focused now, wakeful. “ _Yeah. I know. But don’t worry about that. You’re closer to three weeks early, putting you out of preterm status. But I do want you to get here ASAP since your water has broken already. Okay? Can you do that?”_

“Yeah, Ian’s here. I…” Mickey takes a lungful of air and rolls his hips to alleviate some of the pressure. Eyes flicking over to Ian, he reinforces his composure. He’s good. He can do this. “We’re good. We’ll get there.”

“ _Good. I’ll get everything ready for you. You two get here safe.”_ Sounding absolutely certain, she concludes with, “ _you’re going to be fine,”_ and disconnects the call.

Mickey drops the phone to the mattress and gets to his feet, eyes looking blind as he shuffles away from the bed and towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Ian asks, scrambling to his feet and following Mickey.

“I’m taking a fucking shower. I feel disgusting and…I’m probably going to get more disgusting. I’d rather get a fresh start before starting with that shit,” he says with a vague wave of his hand over the area of his groin.

“Maybe you shouldn’t…” Ian's apprehension drenches everything about him.

“It’s a shower, Ian. I think I can handle a shower.” Mickey doesn’t expect Ian to understand. Maybe it’s silly, but he needs to get out of his boxers and let the water wash away the amniotic fluid painting his thighs. He needs to be in control of this. He’ll shower quickly. The pain isn’t bad, just cramps. But he’s worried about the kid…because it’s getting banged around in there and Mickey wonders why his body decided it doesn’t want to do _this_ anymore. Underneath, he’s scared. But a shower? He can do that. It’s a tiny step and he needs to take it.

Shaking his head, Ian decides not to fight. “Fine. But I’m showering with you.”

Mickey pulls a skeptical face. “It’s not like the kid is just going to fall out.”

“Not the kid I’m worried about right now.” Ian steps forward, brushing past Mickey to turn the shower taps on. “Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Mickey licks his lips, raising his chin so his eyes can meet Ian’s gaze. “You’re okay too.” He feels a cramp building but powers through it. Holding onto Ian’s hands, he doesn’t break the eye contact and it’s enough to make him feel stable.

Ian seems to understand the connection, not moving until Mickey does. When the contraction passes, he ushers Mickey into the shower. “Come on. Let’s clean up and get to Katie’s, okay? Because you already leaked all over the bed. I don’t need you having the kid in our shower.”

It’s a joke, Mickey knows that so he lets himself laugh and punch Ian playfully in the shoulder. And he refuses to believe that there is any way he’s giving birth anywhere near their shower.

***

True to her word, Katie got the delivery room ready to go for the two of them. By the time Mickey and Ian arrive, she’s practically falling asleep at the receptionist desk in her practice. It’s weird being in the office in the middle of the night, the area still crisp and professional but contrasted with the fact that Katie is in mismatched pajamas, hair pulled into a tied up mess on top of her head.

She ushers both of them into the room quickly, handing Mickey a medical gown and checking his vitals as soon as she can get her hands on him.

Mickey’s fine but he starts looking a little pale when Katie gets him up on the bed and tells him she’s got to check on the progress he’s making.

Ian knows how this works. He hasn’t been meeting with Katie but he’s done research online, even watched videos, so he knows what it means when Katie announces that Mickey’s 100% effaced and 5 centimeters dilated. He knows the end goal is 10.

When the doctor pulls away to tell them what to expect, Mickey goes quiet. He barely makes a peep, just keeps breathing and looking like he’s angry whenever he’s contracting. The fingers of each of Mickey's hands twitch and squeeze into the meat of his own thighs and his jaw sets. Ian's seen that look before and he’s not quite sure what to make of Mickey at the moment. The laboring man is focused and concentrated in a way that impresses Ian and makes his heart flutter in awe.

Katie watches silently, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, before she gives the two men a smile. “Listen, I don’t need to hover over you. You’re in active labor and seem to be doing perfect working through that on your own. I’m gonna duck out, take a nap on the bed next door. I'll come check on you in an hour or so. If you need me, come grab me. Okay?”

Mickey breaks his concentration for a second, looking straight at her. He’s got his back arched awkwardly, trying to knead at it with one hand. “I don’t have to stay in this bed the whole time, do I?”

“No. Walking will do you good, actually, if you’re trying to speed things up. Just don’t push yourself.” Katie uncrosses her arms and gives Mickey a pointed look. “I mean it. Don’t think you’re going to magically dilate all the way by running laps.”

“I didn’t run laps when I wasn’t pregnant, I’m sure as hell not going to start now. So…no need to worry there,” Mickey huffs.

“Okay, good. Then I’m going to give you two some privacy.” She points a finger at each man. “You make sure you get me if you need me. If you even _think_ about needing me. You hear?” Katie waits for both men to nod until she leaves. After one last visual sweep of the room she sneaks out, gently closing the door behind her.

Left with only Mickey’s breathing to fill the silence, Ian’s not sure how to navigate forward. He wants to say something but he’s afraid of breaking Mickey’s calculated breathing. His boyfriend’s blue eyes are staring at a fixated spot in front of him as he rides waves of contractions, using the down time between to close his eyes and sink back on the bed.

Ian feels silly not knowing what to say. He doesn’t even know if he should touch Mickey because he looks precariously perched on the edge of whatever coping techniques he’s working through. Fingers twitching at his sides, Ian feels the need to get a physical connection with Mickey. He doesn’t know how to make things better for Mickey but even in their darkest times their physical contact managed to keep them above water.

Mickey surprises him when he reaches out a hand and grabs Ian’s, squeezing it rhythmically. When Ian braves a glance at the man, he finds him furrowing his brows and narrowing his eyes. If it wasn't the impending birth of their child causing that look, Ian would tease him about the death glare but now is not the time. Mickey looks intimidating as hell and Ian almost worries how that is going to play out when it comes time for the messier parts. It’s eerie how quiet Mickey’s being; Ian didn’t expect that. People might think Ian’s loud about things because he’s the more talkative one, but Mickey’s actually louder in everything he does. He’s just _noisy_. Mickey exists in a world where he stakes a claim by making noise. He shoves things around too roughly, doesn’t try to be gentle or quiet when he works. He curses over the smallest things. When he got shot, both times, he was loud about it. So, Ian figured he’d be loud while he labored. Instead, Ian gets the opposite. Mickey’s close lipped for the most part, aside from the exhales that leave his mouth. Mostly, the other man seems to be in his own world, but his eyes meet Ian’s sometimes and there is enough communication in the gesture that Ian knows how hard he’s working at keeping it together.

“Hey, Mick, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, I fucking know,” Mickey runs a hand over his swell and groans softly. “Can we try that walking thing?”

“Sure, we can.” Ian takes Mickey’s hand and helps pull him to his feet.

They fall into a routine of walking around the room. It’s uneventful for the most part, but when a particularly tough contraction hits Mickey, he pulls out of Ian’s hold and leans against the wall, using his forearms to support him. He’s still quietly breathing through the pain but it seems to have shaken him enough that he’s louder than before. Looking like he doesn’t want to be touched, Mickey snorts at the wall, almost snarling as he pushes his slightly damp hair out of his face.

“Mick – ” Ian starts.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Mickey exhales loudly. “I’m fine.”

They continue walking the room trying to help Mickey dilate and for the first time since they’ve been in Katie’s practice, Mickey makes a drawn out moaning noise. He pitches forward on the bed, bending at his hips and holding himself up on his palms to make his body into a right angle. Ian can’t stop himself from running a soothing hand across Mickey’s back, tracing circles there and trying to eradicate the pain crashing into his boyfriend. He doesn’t realize he’s shushing soothingly until Mickey stops moaning and the new silence makes Ian’s voice stand alone. “Maybe we should get you back to – ”

“I’m not getting in that damn bed. This feels better. I need…” Mickey pauses to swallow. “I need to work through this, okay?” He stands again and laces his fingers with Ian’s. “Okay?”

Ian doesn’t know how to proceed. He feels like he’s just been given a glimpse into this secret Mickey who he’s never known. It astounds him. His insides feel like they’re wound tightly because he’s nervous as hell but he’s also bursting at the seams over how proud he is of Mickey. The man’s a powerhouse. When forced into the situation, Mickey’s so much better at actually dealing with things. That wasn’t always the case, but it is now; Ian’s watching it happen. He wiggles his thumb in between their laced hands and strokes Mickey’s palm. “Okay, yeah. We can keep walking.”

They’re silent again once they start moving but Ian can feel the tension building in Mickey. It’s also written on his face, but he doesn’t utter a peep.

Something breaks when they’re in the middle of the room and Mickey ends up with his arms looped over Ian’s neck, putting most of his weight on the younger man and practically dangling there. He makes a pained mewling noise, sucks in a quick breath, and moans for the entire duration of the exhale. Mickey stands a bit more to take the weight off of Ian’s shoulders but he ends up dropping his hips again and all but hangs there.

Ian widens his stance and doesn’t waver when Mickey slumps into him. Supporting him fully, Ian reaches a hand up and combs back Mickey’s hair with his fingers. “Doing good, Mick.”

Mickey snorts a laugh, but it ends on a groan. He keeps groaning when he eeks out, “I love you.”

Pressing their forehead’s close, Ian kisses Mickey’s temple. “I love you.” He doesn’t add the “too” part because he’d been thinking it the whole night, Mickey just happened to beat him to saying it aloud.

“I just wanna,” Mickey gasps, then growls before finishing his thought, “make sure we both know that.” Closing his eyes, he hangs against Ian, moaning, jutting his hips back and folding lower so that his nose touches Ian’s chest. It’s a very undignified position to be caught in but that’s just when Katie decides to show her face.

“Looks like you’re having fun,” she teases, earning herself a flip of middle finger from Mickey. “I think it’s a good idea if I check your progress.”

Nodding in agreement, Mickey doesn’t move.

“Wanna move to the bed?” Katie tries.

“Nope. I…augh!” Mickey fists at Ian’s shirt and starts breathing loudly.

Giving a quick glance to Ian, Katie shrugs. “Guess we’re going to be a bit unconventional then.” She snaps on a pair of gloves and seats herself on the ground behind Mickey. “I’m gonna check you like this, okay? Not gonna be much fun but you sound like you’re getting a lot closer to push time, so…”

Mickey nods into Ian’s chest and widens his footing to keep his legs spread apart.

“Okay,” Katie says, making quick work of getting a look under Mickey’s hospital gown. “You’re just going to feel my fingers. I’ll be fast.” She puts a hand on the back of Mickey’s thigh so the exam doesn’t come out of nowhere and then goes to work. Mickey groans and shies away from her but she eventually discovers what she’s looking for. “You’re at seven. Which is tremendous progress. This kid really doesn’t want to keep anyone waiting.” The gloves are pulled off and disposed of when she gets to her feet. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Mickey mumbles into Ian’s shirt.

“O-kay,” Katie draws out like she doesn’t quite believe him. “It’s going to get a lot more intense from here on out. Transition labor is a bitch. One of those really shitty parts that we talked about. But it means you’re almost through with everything.” She steps back, making Ian realize she’s changed into a pair of scrubs. “You were probably laboring for a while at home but didn’t realize it. Happens to a lot of people. Lucky you for getting a first time labor that doesn’t feel like taking three days.” Sucking in her lips, Katie thinks on the lack of response from Mickey. “Ian?”

Ian’s head snaps up from where he’d been focusing on Mickey and looks Katie’s way. “Hmm?”

“Can I talk to you outside, please? Just for a second.” She waves her hand to gesture that he should follow her out of the delivery room.

Ian feels torn. He doesn’t want to take more than two steps away from Mickey but the weight of Katie's expectant stare spurs him on and he helps Mickey make his way towards the bed. “You going to be okay for a minute?”

Mickey nods, a little too quickly for Ian’s comfort but there is forced snark in his words. “Still be here trying to get this kid out of me.” Once Ian helps him climb back into the bed, he rubs the underside of his belly with strong stroking movements. “Go.”

Ian nervously scratches at the back of his head before deciding to actually listen to Mickey’s order. He follows Katie into the hallway, concerned when she closes the door after them and walks a few paces out of Mickey's earshot.

“I’m worried about Mickey.”

“Why? Is he okay?” Heart rate spiking, adrenaline sends jittery aftershocks of panic through Ian's body. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

“No. No! God, no. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have started like that.” Katie turns a calming palm towards Ian. “I’m just worried he’s internalizing everything, like he’s afraid of something and this way feels safer.”

“That sounds like Mickey,” Ian admits.

“Shit, Ian, you know him better than I do. But he’s pretty much laboring through most of those contractions like he’s made of stone. And I can’t say for certain but I think he’s doing it because he’s afraid of letting you down or something.” She takes a deep breath. “I know he told you about the talks we’ve had. I know you’re someone who suffers from bi-polar. But I also know he’s someone who will move mountains to keep stress triggers away from you. So…I think he’s holding things inside because he doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

Katie’s opinion feels like a bullet to the brain. She’s the medical professional but she’s also become their friend. She’s right in so many ways and it makes Ian’s heart break into thirty pieces. Not picking up on these things sooner makes him feel like a complete asshole. He knew Mickey was trying to hold everything inside but he thought that was his coping mechanism for dealing with the pain. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” Katie says with a touch to Ian’s shoulder. “It’s not _your_ fault. You guys are, for lack of a better word, complicated. I knew that going in. But he needs you. And if you can try to coax him into opening up, it will make things go a little easier for everyone.” Giving Ian a confident nod, she continues. “Mickey’s doing great. Really. His and the baby’s vitals are in the safe ranges. But I’m worried he’s going to lose stamina when I really need him to still have some in reserve. So…do that thing I’ve seen you do.”

Having just been torn out of his thoughts, Ian shakes his head. “Huh?”

“That thing where you end up being ignorant idiots until you realize you’re on the same page and you go all love struck for each other. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen it.” Katie laughs. “Go do that,” she says as she pushes Ian in the direction of the door. “I’m going to check on you more frequently but I’ll give you time to talk. I’m pretty sure he’d stay shut up like a clam if I joined the party right now for your heart-to-heart.”

The nervous need to do something with his hands has Ian smoothing his shirt down as he nods. He can hear Mickey’s moan through the door and his heart feels like it’s being tugged out of his chest. He wants to make it all better; the thought flips a switch and Ian understands everything that Katie is concerned about. They both try to keep the other from buckling under and it's about time that they learn their life is a two person operation.

***

The minute Ian stepped out of the room, Mickey crumbles. He’d been holding it together so well but having Ian out of sight made things unravel a little further than he’d like.

He might not be showing it on the outside but he feels like he’s dying; it’s a slow crawl towards death but it’s dying none the less. But he’s handling it. He’s keeping everything all bottled up because that’s the way his brain is hardwired. All he wants to do is punch someone. Repeatedly. But he keeps breathing in a controlled way that he thinks must make him look like an idiot but it’s actually helping him focus on something other than the fact that the kid is killing him. Or his body is killing him, because it’s contracting a hell of a lot harder and faster than before. Which he knew would happen. He just doesn’t want it to.

And all of a sudden his thoughts are rambling away and he doesn’t have Ian to focus on and he feels like he can’t make his lungs work anymore.

It’s what makes him scrunch his eyes closed, ball his hands into fists and punch down on the bed while letting out the loudest moan he’s allowed himself today. Ian returns during the middle of it and Mickey can’t stop himself. The wall he’s been constructing is slipping away; maybe it was stupid to even have built it in the first place.

Ian freezes in place, hands held in front of him likes he’s not sure what he should ask them to do, uncertainty making his movements jerky. Turning a quarter of the way back towards the door, he gets out a hesitant, “maybe I should go get Katie.”

“No!” Mickey’s eyes pop open and his breath goes ragged between his lips. “No, no, no, no,” he repeats softer, hooking each word on the tail of the last so they’re spaced too closely together. “No. Just you. I’m fine, I just need you.” There. He said it. It’s out there and he can’t take it back, which he’s not worried about because he doesn’t care about anything other than _not_ feeling so desperate right now.

“Fuck,” Ian mutters with a pained tremor. His movements sync up and he barrels through the room towards Mickey. Reaching out to grab his boyfriend’s hand, he licks his lips. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.” The encouragements come out hushed but reaffirming and he locks their hands together more securely.

Things shift into a safer place then. Mickey squeezes Ian’s hand, using the resistance between them to pull himself upright a fraction more. Their eyes lock and he doesn’t need to talk, except that he does. There are thoughts bouncing around and screaming inside of his skull, practically making him deaf. “It’s not too bad, really. It’s better now.” His voice sounds like no one would believe him. Groaning, he tenses and curls forward slightly. “This sucks,” he mutters.

“It must.” Ian licks his lips. “Look, Mick…you’re doing fucking awesome. Even Katie said so. But it’s okay if…you wanna yell or something. If you wanna hate me. Aren’t you supposed to hate me?”

Despite his discomfort, the question makes Mickey flat out laugh. Giving Ian an open mouthed grin of disbelief, he shakes his head. “I don’t hate you. Shit, not even close. Not for _this_ ,” he says nodding towards his stomach. “For a lot of other things? Maybe.” His words are light enough to carry nothing to back them up. “But I…I need you.” They know that works both ways but Mickey sometimes chokes on saying the words out loud. Growing up without a lot of people he could “need” makes the feeling a tight fit. Ian’s had his family and Kev and Vee. He’s got a web of people who are all interdependent. Mickey’s got siblings who are flighty in their own way. Usually, Mickey lets Ian know that he needs him with actions because he’s shit at words. Now that his labor is severely limiting his actions, he’s left with shaky words that make him feel weak. He should just man up and go back to laboring in silence but he can’t because Ian’s looking at him like he’s fucking awesome and he’d hate to let him down. “I don’t know what I’m doing. My body seems to get it. But…I…I don’t know what to do.”

Ian sighs, pressing closer and seating half his rear on the edge of the bed. “Hey, that’s okay. That’s why we’ve got Katie, right?”

“Nah, I don’t mean like that. I mean…what do _I_ do? How do _I_ feel? I just want the kid out but then what? I have no idea what to do. And…I don’t want to fuck this up. I don’t wanna look like I can’t do this…because I know I can. I just don’t want you to think I can’t.” Mickey takes a shuddering breath and covers his face with one palm. “Shit, I’m not making any sense.”

“Of course you can do this, Mick. You’re like…the bravest person I know. I mean, I called you out for being a coward one too many times but you’ve proved me wrong every time.”

“Shud’dup,” Mickey scoffs.

“I’m serious!” Ian gives a quick squeeze to Mickey’s hand and kisses his temple, letting his head roll forward a bit so he can rest against the side of Mickey’s head.

“I can’t fuck this up. You know…for you or for the kid.”

“Or for you,” Ian adds. “But you’re not gonna fuck up. You’re gonna do great. And don’t worry about anything afterwards. We’ll figure it out. Just worry about now, okay? You get the kid here safe and sound and then we’ll move onto worrying about other things. Because I’m scared shitless. Do you know that? I get to sit here and watch the man I love just to suffer in silence so he doesn’t have to burden me." Ian thinks his heart hurts enough over that fact that it makes a broken sound Mickey can hear. "And I know you’re going to be fine. _I know_. But it’s still scary waiting for that to be a done deal.” Ian sucks in a breath like he’s going to cry but he overpowers that from happening by talking with more force behind his words. “You’re fucking strong as hell right now. I swear. And you – we – are going to be fine. Okay? It’s okay to be scared. That doesn’t make you weak in my eyes. I know who you are, Mickey. Whatever you do, it’s going to be perfect. The right thing. I need you to believe that. I’m not going anywhere.” In a rush, Ian crashes their lips together and cups the sides of Mickey’s face.

They kiss for a few comforting moments before Mickey’s hands land on Ian’s shoulders and he’s gasping, pushing away but still squeezing Ian as he pants with an open mouth. The pressure building in his middle makes him instinctively try to roll his hips away from it but it’s a useless attempt. The discomfort keeps closing in on him, making his middle tighter by the second.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe,” Ian says, running his fingers through the short hair at the back of Mickey's neck.

Mickey wants to snap back that he _is_ breathing but when he goes to speak, he realizes he actually isn’t. He’s holding his breath, scowling straight ahead.

Ian flounders for a moment, eyes searching the room for some type of help. Without explaining what he’s doing, he mumbles a curse and kicks off his shoes. “You don’t get to do this. Okay? You and me…partners right? So you don’t get to keep everything in. Give me some of it.” Crawling onto the bed, he manages to slot himself behind Mickey, knees bent so Mickey can grab onto them.

Leaning his back against Ian’s chest and tilting his head up to see his boyfriend’s face, Mickey has no idea what Ian thinks he’s doing. He want to snap at him but then the pain is nipping at the edges of his composure and he has to admit, it feels better using Ian for support. Ian’s shushing him with soft rhythmic words, and Mickey feels himself coming back down from the pain. “Oh my god,” he grumbles, rubbing a palm over his middle.

“That bad, huh?” Ian asks, leaning forward so his chin can rest on Mickey’s shoulder. For being the taller one, it’s amazing how he can bend himself to curl around the exact places Mickey needs him.

“Kinda like when I got shot…if both incidents happened at the same time,” Mickey says because he doesn’t really know how to explain it. It’s not really like that at all, but if he has to rate things he’s experienced in life on a pain scale, getting shot would be directly under what he’s feeling now.

Ian gives a stunted laugh. “How come all the pain you go through is my fault?” He pauses and backpedals to amend his statement. “Like, you end up in those situations because of your involvement with me.”

Mickey tenses, but not because of the pain. “It’s…” He licks his lips and falls completely against the support of Ian’s chest. “That’s not how it is. Like…it’s not something we need to keep track of.” Even though Ian’s technically right, Mickey doesn’t like seeing it that way. Yeah, sure, on some level Mickey probably got shot the first time because he was fucking Ian. The second time, Ian didn’t pull the trigger, he was the one who drove him out of there and made sure he got medical attention. And this time? This…well…this is because of Ian; because he had sex with Ian. But Mickey doesn’t like keeping track because while Mickey may have been on the end of physical pain, he’s caused a lot of emotional and broken hearted damage to Ian in the past. He doesn’t like keeping score because he likes to think the scoreboard has been wiped clean and it doesn’t matter anymore. Instead of bringing that up, he goes quiet, both hands rubbing down the middle and around the sides of his belly.

Ian starts kneading the muscles in his boyfriend's shoulders, trying to loosen them up. They travel down his spine and massage along the way before returning to his shoulders and repeating the process again. They work through several more contractions like that. At one point, Ian slips out of a conducive position for supporting Mickey and has to take a moment attempting to fix himself. Maybe it’s because Mickey’s brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, but he panics. He grabs Ian’s arm, not meaning to press so forcefully into the healing wound there. Growling through the pain, he threatens, “move from this bed and I will destroy your other arm.”

Wisely, Ian keeps his mouth shut and nods. Ian’s not sure how he did it, but once given permission to vocalize his pain, Mickey hasn’t been all that sweet about it. He’s glaring daggers at Ian but the pain from the contractions leave him speechless so all he can get out are litanies of nonsensical curses and groans.

“I think we should get Katie,” Ian suggests calmly, hand still massaging over his boyfriend.

“Ugh, you have no idea how much I love you and hate you at the same time.” Mickey turns his head to the left and buries it in Ian’s shoulder, realizing he means those words. Nothing in his head makes sense. He simultaneously wants to pummel Ian and curl into him. “Oh shit,” he says as the pressure reaches to new heights and his hips ache all over. “Ian Gallagher, you’re a fucking dead man,” he snarls. But the pain makes him splay his legs and give up glowering at Ian in favor of pitching forward and curling over his belly. “Fucking shit fuck!”

The delivery room door bangs open and Katie skids into the room. “What I miss?”

The glare Mickey had been reserving for Ian gets turned on Katie. “Get this fucking kid out of me!”

“Usually when I hear that part, we’re good to go.” Katie snags gloves from beside Mickey’s bed and slips them on. “Let’s see what’s going on.” Mickey’s legs are already spread for her so it isn’t hard to examine him. She pulls back with a pleased but shocked expression. “Oh yeah, you’re at push.” She smiles and waits until Mickey gives some recognition of that fact. “You’ve done real good so far, just like we’ve talked about. But this part is going to be a little different. Labor happens whether you are a participant or not. But pushing? This kid is going to need your help. But you’re good. You know what to do.” She nods and smiles again, putting a hand on Mickey’s knee. “How do you wanna do this?”

Swallowing thickly, Mickey doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with him. Anger is gone, fear is back and he’s so fucking tired of trying to get this kid out of him that he just wants to let Katie knock him out with the best medical grade drugs she has. But that’s not what he’s wanted all along. He’s wanted his labor to go exactly as it has and so far Katie’s made it happen. He doesn’t want hospitals or drugs. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow but he knows he needs to do things this way for himself and for their kid. “I wanna stay the way I am. Like this.” He gulps down a breath. “With Ian.”

“Absolutely.” Katie nods, hands already working at breaking down the bottom of the bed. “Scoot down just a bit. Okay?” She turns towards Ian. “You too. You can move down the bed with him. Maybe put your legs straight because his are going to be open and I don’t want yours to get in the way.” When she’s done, the bed has be transformed into something that’s helping Mickey stay in a seated position, his back reclined just a fraction against Ian. Katie swings Mickey’s legs into the stirrups and she gets a better look at Mickey’s progress. “Okay, so your body wasn’t taking the whole laboring thing lightly. The baby’s head is engaged in the birth canal and if you give me some good pushes, I think you’ll get it out without any problems.

Mickey nods. His whole body is shivering but he feels hot all over. The new position makes the pressure unbearable and he wants to run from the cramp cutting him like a vice. Thankfully, Ian found a way to sneak his arms under Mickey’s armpits so that Mickey and grab his hands and squeeze. “Augh!”

“Okay, don’t run away from it. Try pushing. Right down here,” she says, pressing two fingers to the place she is indicating. “Just like we talked about.”

The command reaches Mickey’s body before his brain agrees to it. He’s bearing down, eyes going wide because the sensation is overpowering. It hurts like hell but he can’t stop himself. He goes silent, sucking in air through his nose and reverting to his original focused determination. Pushing hurts but it’s better than having his body hijacked by contractions. He’s controlling things this time; it gives him something to do and he’s going to make pushing his bitch.

“Okay! Wait a second!” Katie says loud enough to break Mickey’s concentration. “That was good! I want to let your body get used to the stretch for a minute.”

Knitting his brow in confusion, Mickey pants awkwardly. It’s hard to tell his body to stop once it’s been given the greenlight. Groaning, he digs his heels into the stirrups and his voice cracks. The need to push consumes him when a contraction hits and he cries out. “’Nother! Gotta…ugh!” Clamping his hand around Ian’s, he pushes harder than the first go around.

From her position between Mickey’s legs, Katie shifts. “It’s okay, go with it. Your body knows better than me.”

Leaning his head forward, Ian presses a kiss to Mickey’s temple. His lips come away damp from the sweat there, making his heart pang over how hard Mickey’s working. “You’re fucking amazing, Mick. You’ve got this.” When he hears Mickey groan in pain, Ian’s pulse speeds up. He’s more nervous now than he thought possible.

Katie catches Ian’s attention. She locks eyes with him and they both know it’s serious. “Ian, can you…maybe _help_?” Her eyes dart to the way Mickey’s straining to push and the fact that his knees tilt closed.

Swallowing, Ian nods. The position that Mickey’s resting against him in makes it easy for Ian to snake his hands away from Mickey’s so that he can rest a palm on the inside of each of Mickey’s thighs. He presses firmly enough to encourage Mickey to keep his legs open. “Come on, Mick. Keep ‘em open for Katie.”

“Oh, fuck you Ian!” Mickey yells, turning his head and attempting to growl. It gets cut off by new waves of pain crashing into him. He curls in on himself for several seconds before arching his back and pressing against Ian’s chest, his breathing dissolves into panting and he pushes. He can feel the baby sliding lower. Clenching his jaw, eyes focused on the space between his legs, he pushes throughout the contraction. “Ugh!” Pressing his heels into the stirrups, Mickey’s legs strain under the effort of the push.

“Good job, Mickey. Baby’s coming.” Katie’s voice is calm. “Keep on pushin’ just like that.”

“Fucking tryin’,” Mickey growls. He uses Ian’s body for leverage and tries to will the kid out of his body, curling forward and baring down. Exhausted, he returns to his position against Ian’s chest, but this time he’s still curved forward a bit. As constructive as it feels to be pushing, he was hoping for bigger results. Bearing down the way he's been doing puts things into focus and he's dizzy over the fact that he's trying to push a _kid_ out. His and Ian's. “This kid feel like coming out any time soon?”

“The head is right there Mickey, promise. A few more pushes and the baby will be crowning. I know it’s a lot of work but you got the baby right there. It’s so close to coming out. Here,” Katie takes Mickey’s legs out of the stirrups. “Grab behind your thighs and pull back as you push. Ian’s going to help you keep them open.”

At the mention of his name, Ian smooths his thumb over Mickey’s thighs. “You’re doing so good Mick. Such a fucking bad-ass. You’ve got this.” He repeats for the umpteenth time, the belief reflecting in his eyes.

“We do, right?” Mickey says. His word choice is deliberate because the connection he has with Ian right now is doing half the work in keeping him determined enough to see this through. Katie was right, this is the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life. He’d hoped the kid would come out in a handful of pushes like some of the births he’d read about but of course their kid is stubborn. Nodding, he does as Katie suggested and pulls back on his legs. The new position is weird but when the contraction comes, his legs are pressed close to his chest; he has no choice but to push.  “Argh!” He takes a deep breath and comes back at it, pushing just like before. But unlike before, this push comes with a burning feeling that makes him gasp. “Holy sh – !”

“Perfect!  What did I tell you? The baby’s crowning.”  Katie smiles wide.

“Believe me,  _I know_.” Mickey moans through another push, fingers digging into his thighs as he pushes. The burning consumes him and he wants to either keep pushing till there is nothing left to push or tell Katie to push the kid back in and cut it out. “Get the fuck out!” he curses and pushes. There is searing pain and then a weird lull of relief.

“Oh my god,” Ian gasps, craning his neck. His lungs feel like they’ve been electrocuted, stuck trying to inhale and exhale at the same time. The angle of his position gives him a partial view of Mickey delivering their child’s head. Heart skipping a beat, he’s lightheaded. “Oh my god,” he repeats. “You…you’re incredible. Our kid has a head,” he says dumbly in disbelief. “Shit, Mick…you got its head out.”

“I fucking _know_ ,” Mickey snaps, because he feels it. Groaning, he arches his spine and presses the back of his head into Ian with a deep animalistic moan.

“Okay boys. We’re gonna meet this kid in another few pushes. So give me all you’ve got Mickey, and you’re done. Alright?” Katie kicks her stool closer to Mickey, sitting on it and giving him a smile like she’s got all the faith in the world towards him.

Turning his face into Ian, Mickey bears down. “Come the fuck on!” He feels the way the kid stretches him wider and he wants to run from that. It’s weird and makes his vision splotchy. Powering through it, he works with his body and the waves of contractions coursing through him. Thinking about everything he’s gone through to get to this point, something in him snaps and he goes feral. He’s got Ian’s kid inside of him and it's only a few more seconds before it’s out in the world and he won’t know what to do with it. His heart pounds faster and he’s filled with the need to protect these parts of his family. In a flurry of irrational behavior, Mickey kicks Katie square in the shoulder to get her away from him, sending her off her stool and stumbling backwards. At the same time, he reaches his hands down towards the baby he’s delivering, grits his teeth and gives one final push. The child comes into the world, into his hands, in a rush of fluids and he’s careful enough to pull it safely onto his chest. The endorphins make him feel like he’s high and he stares at the baby with wide eyes. It’s covered in the mess of birth, its eyes are screwed shut while it lets out a cat like mew that gives way to a full on watery cry. “Oh, shit,” he says, breathless and dizzy. His arms are wrapped around the baby, daring anyone to come near him. He turns his sweat glistening face up at Ian, mouth open from desperately panting to get his breath back. “Oh, shit,” he whispers this time.

Mickey feels like he must be in shock because his whole body is shaking, aching all over, and he can’t believe he just did _that_. He had no idea what possessed him, he simply went with the feeling in his gut. And now his kid is here, wailing on his chest and he sure as hell isn’t ever letting it go. Mickey’s vision starts going blurry because the baby isn’t the only one crying anymore. The exhaustion from labor and relief of having the kid in his arms hits Mickey hard and he can’t stop himself from trying to laugh, cry, and breathe deeply, all at the same time. It must sound like he’s struggling because reassuring hands land on his knee and he has to focus hard to see who it is.

It’s Katie. She seems to have regained her composure and is shaking her head in a way that lets everyone know she holds nothing against Mickey. Like she’s proud of him. “Here,” she says, shifting the baby enough to untangle it from the umbilical cord that's getting in the way. Tugging the top of Mickey’s medical gown open, she helps the newborn nestle there safe and sound in the warmth of Mickey bare chest. “It’s a little girl, in case you were wondering.”

The announcement makes Mickey’s heart burst. He thinks he would have reacted the same way if the baby had been a boy but he starts crying all over again upon hearing that he’s got a child with a gender. She's not longer the androgynous vision of a kid he’d forced himself to think of the baby as. He didn’t want to get attached. But now he’s got a daughter and he's never letting her go. It’s weird how things flipped because he can’t even think of a reason why he wouldn’t want the squalling bundle in his life. His hands curl around her and she’s so damn tiny, way smaller than she felt when he pushed her out. Her head fits safely in the curve of his palm and her teeny rump is supported with his other hand to keep her close. Waves of emotions hit him but he doesn’t try to hide them; they’re there for Katie and Ian to see. Looking up at Ian, he announces flatly, “she’s ours. She’s staying with us.” He locks eyes with his boyfriend and sees that the redhead is completely gone, eyes shining and hopeful. Mickey didn't need to make the announcement, Ian's got the same sentiment written all over his face, making Mickey need Ian to tether him because it's almost too much. “Fucking kiss me.”

Ian starts crying then, loudly, thick rivulets running down his cheeks. He laughs through the happy tears, leaning down and kissing Mickey with a strong press of his lips. Carefully, he slips out from behind his boyfriend, curling onto his hip so he’s facing Mickey’s left side, the side their daughter is snuggled up on. She’s perfect. She doesn’t sound too happy to be out in the world after spending so many months in a warm cozy womb, but her cries are strong and Ian thinks they’re gorgeous. Stroking a finger over her nose, she blinks her eyes open at him and it’s the fastest he’s ever fallen in love with someone.

“Okay, you gotta have some part in this,” Katie says softly, coming around to the side of the bed and putting a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “You’re cutting her cord.”

Ian licks her lips, looking down as Katie clamps the cord. “I…I don’t wanna fuck her up. My hands are shaky and…It’s not going to hurt her?” The thing looks scary to him in comparison to his daughter’s perfect existence.

“No. She’s fine. You’re not going to fuck it up. But you are going to cut the cord. Because after a delivery like that, I don’t want her to think that you’re not willing to get your hands dirty.” She hands him a pair of scissors. “Just cut over here and she’s good to be snuggled for a little while longer before I steal her to check her out.”

Ian’s hands do shake as he told Katie they would but he’s got them under control enough to cut the thread binding her to Mickey. His hands have worked through wood and metal, but he feels like whatever cutting he’s done up until this point pales in comparison to how beautiful it is to have cut the cord of this perfect human being that he and Mickey created. He knows he’s being every cliché in the book but he’s been falling in love with her since he first let himself think about who she would look like.

“Good job,” Katie says, patting him on the back. She takes the scissors from him and then walks around the bed so she can reach over Mickey and towel off the baby. While she’s working, she shakes her head at Mickey again. “When you don’t have that princess on your chest, I am punching you in the face for kicking me.” She laughs to show that she’s teasing and takes a clean blanket, wrapping it around the baby. “You’re fucking insane.” Katie smiles and runs her hand sweetly over the crown of the baby’s head. “But you’ve done real good. She’s gorgeous. And you? You’re awesome. _That_ , delivering her like that, was awesome. I’ve never seen anyone do that. You’re real good at this having babies thing.”

“Never fucking doing that again,” Mickey snorts, pulling his head back like she’d just said something insane.

“Kinda figured that would be your response.” Katie laughs. “Listen, I’m going to help deliver the afterbirth and clean you up. I wanna monitor both of you for a little while and get this little one’s vitals. Check her out. But after that, you’re staying here at least for one day. You didn’t want a hospital, but I’m keeping an eye on you here. Got it?”

Mickey doesn’t fight, he’s too tired to even if he wanted to. Instead, he nods and goes back to the fussing infant in his arms. He’s surprised he instinctively knows what to do with her and he explodes with emotions when he realizes she _fits_. Rubbing the towel over her head, he realizes that she’s not bald, as she first appeared. There is reddish blonde fuzz on her head and his lips curl in a smile. “She’s a redhead,” He says, catching Ian’s gaze.

“Shit, poor thing,” Ian teases, ruffling his own red hair. “Sorry sweetheart.”

Mickey wants to cry again over the fact that the kid has Ian’s hair. It’s perfect. If he could have picked a color hair for her, red would be it. She’s Ian’s and he loves that he has more parts of his boyfriend in his life. Rocking the baby gently, Mickey finds himself trying to shush her. Moving on autopilot, he kisses her red hair gently, a line of kisses across her skull. “You’re not too happy with us right now, huh? We…well…you've got kinda unprepared parents. We didn’t know what we were going to do with you. We didn’t know we’d love you so much that we couldn’t ever put you down.” Mickey shakes his head and laughs at himself. “Oh my god…I’m talking to a newborn. Like she even understands us, right? I’m just being stupid.”

“Nah.” Ian presses another kiss to Mickey’s lips. “I think it’s sweet.” He lets his forehead rest against Mickey’s and smiles. “Mickey, you’re not stupid. Katie was right. That was awesome. You’re…” His voice hitches and cracks when his eyes tear up again. “I’m so damn proud of you. I don’t think you realize how proud I am. And this little girl?” Ian pulls away and leaves kisses on his daughter in the same places Mickey just did. “You’re family. You’re coming home with us. So even though we don’t know what we’re doing, we’re going to learn real fast.” Ian runs a finger down her cheek. Her whining tapers off and she opens big newborn blue eyes at him. Heart catching in his chest, Ian laughs. “She looks just like you, Mick.”

“She looks just like Mandy when she was born.” The realization hits Mickey all at once because she kinda does look like his sister but there is so much more to her. She’s just got here and Mickey has no idea who she is going to shape up to be. Stroking a finger over the slope of her nose, he thinks that part of her is all Ian. He tries to say it out loud but they both choke on tears again. Adrenaline is making them wired but they’re clearly a mess. There is so much they need to do. She needs a name and they need a plan but he can't focus on anything other than her comforting weight settled over his chest. No one has tried to take her from him, which is great because he needs this more than air right now. He knows he should let Ian hold her properly and he will; for now, Ian’s able to wrap his arms around both of them, which seems to satisfy him.

The morning is breaking but exhaustion is winning. His body, after hours of physical strain, has Mickey feeling like he's going to pass out. He doesn't want to because all he wants is more time with Ian and trying to get used to the fact that they have a daughter but Mickey needs sleep. They both do. Mickey’s still got some work to do but afterwards, thankfully, Ian’s able to snuggle up in the bed with Mickey.

They’re too used to sharing a bed and breaking that tradition tonight would hurt. This time, however, the tradition is improved; their daughter is with them too, nestled safely between them until Katie comes to put her in her own cot while the men try to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you like it.  
> More baby schmoop next chapter!  
> Please let me know what you think. *runs away and hides under a rock*
> 
> Also - Thanks so my amazing beta DemonDetox for helping out with betaing this chapter even though she isn't a shameless fan. *hugs*


	18. Merging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG...this is basically just baby loving schmoop becasuse:  
> 1) I needed it  
> 2) There was so much angst in this story...Mickey and Ian deserve some happy simple moments.

Ian doesn’t think he’s slept too much.

After Katie had deemed Mickey a champ at giving birth and that he was doing well enough for her to feel comfortable in leaving them to get some sleep, Ian had settled down next to Mickey and burrowed his head in the crook of the older man’s neck. Mickey smelt like sweat and exhaustion, but underneath was the comforting currant of pure _Mickey_ and Ian basked in it for a while.

With the baby snuggled close to his chest, Mickey fought sleep for as long as he could. His fingers kept tracing the curves of their daughter’s head and setting the definitions of her face to memory. One at a time, he held each tiny finger and toe between his thumb and forefinger like he was counting them and testing their actuality.

Ian let Mickey have all of this because he could clearly see how much damage thinking about giving their daughter up for adoption had caused for Mickey. Now that she was born, it was like Mickey had to make up for lost time and make sure everyone was on the same page about being fiercely protective of the newborn. Mickey looked as torn as Ian’s ever seen him when he had blinked up at Ian and made a subtle movement to transfer their daughter into Ian’s arms. Instead, Ian gently pushed their daughter back into Mickey’s care and settled all the more closer to them. He’d hold her eventually, but watching Mickey do so was coming in as a close second best.

It took an hour before drowsiness made it too dangerous for them to keep hogging their daughter’s attention. Safely placed in the teeny cot besides Mickey’s bed, the entire new family of three ended up passing out. Ian snuggled into Mickey again, this time on the receiving end of the same kisses the older man kept littering across their daughter’s head.

When Ian woke up, it’s barely morning. He could tell by the light straining to break over the horizon. Too much time couldn’t have passed from when they both gave into sleep and he thinks maybe he should try to get some more while things are relatively quiet. Mickey is still out cold, his chin ducked down and gently trapping Ian’s head, which he still has fitted in the crook of Mickey’s neck. He doesn’t want to move for fear of waking Mickey but his bladder doesn’t care how much he loves Mickey; it has needs. Slowly, he shifts his body so as not to disturb Mickey. After a low grumble, Mickey repositions himself and settles back into sleep. Settling on the edge of the bed so he can watch his boyfriend for a while longer, Ian risks combing his fingers through Mickey’s hair.

It’s hard not to get caught up in the emotions that have been swimming around in Ian’s gut. Even in sleep, Mickey looks exhausted and it makes Ian love him all the more. Mickey’s a force of nature, that’s for sure. Ian can’t even formulate words and coherent thoughts to get across how impressed he is by the way Mickey powered through delivering their daughter. He never truly understood that sense of awe parents felt when they watched their partner give birth to a healthy squalling baby with both of their genetic codes. Now, however, things are completely different. Ian knew Mickey was a lot of things but he’s floored by the fact that Mickey is so much more. Thinking about that fact makes his heart thump harder and he finds himself smiling, biting his bottom lip to keep from making noise.

He wants to kiss Mickey and tell him all of these words but he wants even more for Mickey to sleep. He’s earned it. So, despite the fact that he wants to find ways resume curling up against Mickey and staying connected, Ian rises from the bed and pads towards the bathroom. He’s deliberately not looked at his sleeping daughter because he’s certain that will make him abandon any plans on emptying his bladder in favor of staring at her.

When he returns, however, it’s a different ballgame. The first thing he does is hover over the cot his newborn is in. She’s swaddled comfortably but looks angry, like she’s fighting with herself over the idea of waking up. Sure enough, she makes soft puppy noises and her face scrunches before she opens her eyes and gives Ian and unhappy blank stare. Her whining grows in volume and she’s most definitely not the happy sleeping angel she was minutes ago.

“Oh, hey. Shh, it’s okay.” Ian’s quick to scoop her up. She’s tiny and light in his arms but she fits perfectly. “Hey, you.” Voice whisper quiet, Ian finds himself bouncing the baby gently. “Shh, we don’t wanna wake up your other dad. You kinda tired him out.” Falling into an instinctual rocking motion, he shushes the baby rhythmically. He thought maybe holding her would take some getting used to but their connection is immediate. He’s been holding newborns for years, mostly in the form of his younger siblings, but it’s a little like riding a bike. He’s comfortable with it, he really is, but there is a nervous energy underneath because this is _his_ kid and she’s petite and perfect and breakable. The latter thought terrifies him because the possessive feelings hit him hard and he’s almost dizzied by them. She is all his – his and Mickey’s – and they have a shit ton of work to do to make sure they don’t fuck that up.

“Oh my god,” he breathes out. Holding her is surreal and he snuggles her closely to her chest. Her warmth makes her all the more real and he ducks his head down to breathe her in. The new, sweet smell brings back memories of holding Liam for the first time but it’s even better. “Hi, princess.” The term is out of his mouth three seconds before he realizes that it’s going to stick. He and Mickey don’t seem like the types to have a princess, but she’s here anyway, defiant as her parents. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispers, stuck on introductions because he’s never allowed himself to imagine really meeting her. “Shit, you’re pretty,” he says in wonderment while tracing her cheek and smoothing his thumb along the brow of her forehead.

She doesn’t look angry anymore and her blue eyes blink open to stare at Ian, seemingly transfixed. The room is dim but Ian can see her wisps of red hair well enough. Other than that, Ian thinks she is all Mickey. The older man might think the baby looks like Mandy, and maybe she does, but Ian sees traces of Mickey in her features. It’s adorable and perfect all at once. When Ian runs his finger over her bow lips, she makes a phantom suckling motion and tries to latch onto his finger.

Ian’s heart melts. “You hungry, sweetheart?” He looks around the room. He can prepare bottles in his sleep but has no idea where Katie keeps anything. Thankfully, she’s left a giant hand written note reading “FEED YOUR KID” with an arrow pointing towards a cabinet. It takes a little maneuvering but Ian’s able to master onehanded bottle preparation.

This part is a little new. He’s never really been the one solely in charge of feeling newborns and he gives a determined exhale. “Hey, you gotta let me know if I’m screwing this up, okay? Because I haven’t done this in a while and…I guess we’re both new at this whole father-daughter thing. So go easy on me.” Settling himself in the chair beside Mickey’s bed, Ian nudges the nipple at his daughter’s lips. At first, she’s having none of it. She whines and opens her gummy mouth to let out a wail but Ian stops her dead in her tracks by plugging her mouth up with the bottle. She looks shocked, whining despite the fact that the thing she wants is literally directly in front of her. Eventually, she catches on and suddenly she’s drinking the bottle like a pro.

Ian thinks it’s adorable, the way that her lips work to pull the milk, leaving her with a thin ring of formula around the edges. She’s a greedy little thing, making those puppy noises she made when she first woke up but this time they’re more insistent. “Hey, take it easy, huh?” Ian’s smiling from ear to ear. If he thought he fell in love with her before, Ian’s in even deeper now. This little being isn’t even 24 hours old and she’s already got Ian irrevocably wrapped around her fingers.

Mickey’s voice, gravely with exhaustion and sleep, breaks through the moment. “Ian?” He squints in an attempt to focus on Ian and their daughter.

Smiling softly, Ian’s eyes shine through the dimness. “Hey, I’m sorry we woke you.”

“She okay?” The question is out of Mickey’s mouth so quickly that it’s as if he woke up with it on his tongue.

“Yeah. She’s great.” Shifting a bit so that he can square himself toward Mickey, Ian makes sure he gets a good look at their daughter. She’s safe and sound in his arms, sucking loudly on her bottle. “I’m sorry to be the first to feed her, but she was really hungry and,” He laughs when the baby takes that exact moment to make an demanding noise, “She’s kind of bossy.”

“Wonder where she got that from.” Mickey manages a side smile with his sarcasm.

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Snorting, Mickey tries to sit himself properly in the bed but winces, groaning when he’s partially through the movement. “I’m okay,” he says before Ian has a chance to ask.

Raising a brow, Ian narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“I feel like shit but…not in a bad way I think.” Wincing again, Mickey takes it a little more cautiously as he moves so that he’s sitting upright, leaning back against the head of the bed. “Like…It’s normal and she’s here and…It sucks but I’m good. That doesn’t make much sense, huh?”

“Nah, I think I get it.” Ian nods, wiggling the baby’s bottle to test if she’s just playing with it or still drinking. The nipple slips from her mouth and she gives a huge yawn, the type that looks like it takes the effort of every muscle in her body. Smiling, Ian shifts her so that she’s propped over his shoulder. He knows that without a burp cloth this can go wrong in so many ways but he’s willing to risk a little spit up formula. Thumping her back, he kisses the crown of her head. “She’s awesome, Mick.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm.” Ian smiles again when his daughter finally lets out a very unladylike burp. She’s making little puppy noises again when he gently transfers her back into the crook of his arms and rubs her belly. He can see that Mickey is staring at them intensely but he’s not completely able to make out the expression on his face. It looks a little like he’s conflicted and crumbling under the pressure of that. There is an uneasiness about him and it sends a pang of guilt through Ian because it suddenly dawns on him. Mickey’s never been far from their daughter since conception and Ian assumes that’s a pretty tough emotion to navigate through.

“Give ‘er to me.” Mickey says, impossibly sounding scared and commanding at the same time.

Ian’s on his feet before Mickey even asked. “Yeah. Of course!” He bends down and gently gives Mickey the reins. “Got her?”

“Umm,” is all Mickey gets out before nervously licking his lips. Mickey’s more awkward with the baby than he was when she was seconds old. With the skin on skin contact, Mickey seemed to be working on autopilot when positioning her on his chest. Now he looks unsteady but he’s trying to figure it out.

“Here,” Ian says without drawing attention to his task as he guides Mickey’s hand to the back of her head and helps nestle her in Mickey’s arms. Once she’s there, she fits seamlessly and the connection with Mickey leaves both of them settling down into a comfortable moment.

Getting more confidence, Mickey curls the fingers of the arm she’d cradled in over her body, a defensive glare flashing over his eyes. “Morning, kid,” he whispers, voice hitching when the words sneak out.

Ian realizes he’s watching Mickey fall in love with their daughter all over again. The front Mickey puts on sometimes is transparent; that man is five steps away from crying when the baby gets her hand free of the swaddle and thumps it along Mickey’s arm. It’s a gorgeous picture. Mickey’s mesmerized to the point where Ian thinks the room has probably faded away and nothing exists other than the two of them. Ian thinks capturing the moment is worth the glare Mickey will give him later. He pulls out his phone and snaps several pictures of the scene in front of him, almost tearing up himself when their daughter reaches a hand up towards Mickey’s face and Mickey presses his lips together to kiss it. The older man is all but cooing at the baby and it’s the sweetest Ian’s ever seen him.

Mickey doesn’t seem to notice the pictures. He’s too busy watching the way the baby balls her hand into a fist and tries to shove the whole thing in her mouth. Smiling, he lets out a disbelieving laugh. When he finally pries his eyes away from his daughter, they’re wet and end up matching the look on Ian’s. “Our lives just got a lot harder. I mean…life _is_ hard and it just got harder. But…it makes sense now. You know? Why people do _this_.” Licking his lips, Mickey swallows and his breathing has gone shaky.

 “Yeah, I know.” Ian nods. “I was thinking the same thing.” He sits on the bed, as close to Mickey as he can without jostling them. “And we can handle it. Okay?” Leaning down, their foreheads connect and their close enough to each other’s unsteady breath and whispers.

Mickey’s nodding against Ian’s forehead, making both of the heads bob up and down for a moment. “You’re okay, right? It’s not too much?”

“Shit, Mick, it’s _everything_.” Ian cups Mickey’s face and pulls them closer, leaving a feather light kiss on his lips. Warmth spill out from his heart and he feels his eyes tear up again; he’s touched that Mickey’s worrying about him, of all things, while he should be bonding with their daughter. “I’m great. This is good. We’re good, right? Me and you? We’ve got this.” This time he presses a more forceful kiss to Mickey’s lips, smiling into the gesture.

Mickey seems to melt into it, pressing back with just enough force, smile giving Ian’s a run for its money. “Fuck yeah, we’ve got this.” When they pull apart, Mickey’s still smiling, looking down at the baby in disbelief. “I can’t believe I made something so pretty.”

“Hey, I helped,” Ian teases.

“Not at the end. That was all me,” Mickey glares because the physical pain is still there and he can’t help it. Softening, he leans back and shift’s the baby so that she’s got one cheek resting over his chest. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it if it was anyone else but you. You know that.” He sighs. “Wouldn’t want to.” Letting his gaze fall to their daughter, he soaks her in.

“I know.” Ian toys with the baby’s palm and she makes a fist around one of his fingers. His eyes start tearing again and he brings up a hand to wipe them away, the rubbing only serving to smear his eyes with tears. “Shit, Mick…looking at you with her…it’s messing with me. Because I love you so damn much.” The words come out broken because he has to stop to suck in air. “Fuck, Mickey I’m sitting here crying like an idiot over the two of you. Teenage me would bust my ass for that. And you? You’re so amazing; I know I can’t stop saying it. You delivering her? Making sure she was safe this whole time? Fuck, that’s amazing. I know we didn’t know what we were doing but I’m so grateful to you for doing it. And she’s here and she’s god damn perfect.” Ian shuts himself up by kissing Mickey, pressing their lips together and getting everything he needs from their connection.

They kiss through trying to settle the waves of emotions wrecking them. “Shit, Gallagher…you’re gonna make me cry right along with you.” Mickey tries to laugh but the sound betrays him and it ends on a hitched sob.

“It’s okay, you can cry. I won’t tell anyone.”

That time, Mickey really does laugh. “It’s okay, teenage me would kick both of our asses too.” He knocks his head gently against Ian’s before pulling back and giving his daughter his full attention again. “Kid needs a name.”

“Yeah, figured we can’t keep calling her ‘kid’. You got any ideas?”

For a split second, Mickey looks uncertain but then his voice is back to being confident. “Yeah…I had an idea that was rolling around in the back of my head. I didn’t really know it was there until she was on my chest and…she’s Mikayla. Kayla for short. But Mikayla. I think that’s who she is.”

“Mikayla Milkovich? Isn’t that a bit much?” Ian teases.

“Yeah, it is. But…I was thinking Gallagher.”

Ian’s floored. His belly pools with warmth and he’s afraid to hope that he heard right because he wants that so much. “Mick…you don’t have to.”

“Fuck right I don’t have to.” He snorts. “I want to. Figured that the label of Milkovich hasn’t done me any good. Gallaghers, whether they drive me crazy or ground me, seem to have a better batting record. I’d rather give our daughter that.”

“Mikayla Gallagher,” Ian tests the name out on his tongue. It slides off and lands on their daughter. He thinks it’s cute that his family now consists of two Micks. “Hey, sweetheart.” Ian leans down and kisses her forehead. “Are you a Mikayla?” The baby scrunches her face at the feel of her father’s lips peppering her with kisses and she makes a noise that comes out as more of a squeak than a cry. “I think she agrees.” He smiles at her. “Hi, Kayla. My little Kayla Gallagher.” Looking at Mickey as he says the words, he asks, “you’re sure, right?”

Mickey pulls a face. “Yes, I’m fucking sure. It’s not like I’m changing my name or anything. She’s your kid too. Plus, it’s a good name, right?”

“It’s perfect.” Ian means it. It’s pretty much the only word to sum up how he feels right now.

***

Mickey doesn’t want to move and he’s afraid someone is going to make him do so. Right now he feels like he finally has things settled enough. He and Ian can check one thing off their to-do list now that Mikayla Gallagher is officially named. It feels good to look down at his daughter and know that she’s someone instead of just an indescript kid. Her weight in his arms is starting to feel manageable and when she discovers a way to unwrap herself from her blankets, Mickey’s not scared to lay her over his thighs and get a proper look at her.

Kayla is small but Mickey isn’t sure if she’s _actually_ small or just a normal newborn. She’s got on a fresh diaper, thanks to Ian, because Mickey’s not manning that issue just yet. Her legs kick the air and Mickey remembers just how much damage those kicks can do. She really is a pretty baby, not all pinched or red looking like some of the one’s Mickey’s seen. His heart practically aches from how much immediate attachment he’s formed for her. Coupling that with the fact that Ian looks like a love sick puppy and Mickey given up any pretense of holding himself together.

He figures they’re safe in these four walls for now and he needs to soak up this time alone with Ian and Mikayla. As tacky as it sounds, he’s found himself in a new chapter of his life and he’s not quite sure how that works but it doesn’t scare him because this time he thinks he’s got enough time and ability to figure it out.

He does a pretty shitty job of swaddling Kayla in the blanket – he’ll have to learn how to actually do that later – but she’s warm and comfortable enough. Even though her blanket is messy, she snuggled up happily and he pulls her into his arms with more confidence. “Mikayla,” he whispers because he needs to hear it. The baby seems to like it too, turning her head in search of her father’s voice. That obvious searching motion makes Mickey grin because _this_ is his girl and she knows it. “Look at you. You’re too damn smart, huh?” This time she blinks big eyes up at Mickey and he’s caught hook line and sinker.

“She’s manipulative,” Ian laughs.

“Knock knock,” comes a voice rather than an actually rapping on the door. Katie’s husband, David, peaks his head in through the door. “Katie told me to check on you two this morning. She’s sleeping because _someone_ kept her up all night.”

“Hey, don’t blame me. I would have been perfectly happy to wait till daylight. It’s this little trouble maker’s fault.” Mickey gives Mikayla a pointed look.

“Sure, blame the defenseless baby,” David quips back. “Can I come in? I come bearing food. I figured you two would be starving.”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Ian answers.

Kicking the door open with his foot, David is able to enter with the tray of food he’s got balanced. As soon as the door is open, Cody comes streaking into the room, brushing past his father and making a straight line for the bed. “Baby!” he squeals.

“Woah, Cody, hold up!” David deposits the food on empty counter space beside him and snags Cody around the waist. “You’ve got to be quiet. The baby is new and you don’t want to scare her.”

Cody deflates immediately, looking down at his shoes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, monkey.” Ruffling Cody’s hair, David hoists him up so that he can prop him on his hip. “I hope we’re not disturbing anything. It’s just that…well…Katie would kill me if I didn’t check in on you like I promised and Cody is about to go out of his mind knowing there is a new baby in the clinic. He always gets excited. We usually never let him come and see them but…Like I said…Katie is sleeping. So you two either starve or you try to tolerate an overly energetic little boy.”

“Nah, it’s okay. We’re not doing much.” Mickey shrugs. The noise and commotion seems to have startled Mikayla and she shifts from being silent to full on wailing. “Oh, hey, don’t do that.” Mickey transfers her to his other arm and has a go at bouncing her, speaking soothing words in her ear. “It’s okay Kayla. Shh.” He’s nervous for a minute but she starts to settle, cries tapering off.

“Baby loud,” Cody complains, putting two hands over his ears and wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, well, so are you,” David laughs. Turning his attention towards the men, he smiles. “Kayla, huh? That’s a pretty name for that little princess.”

“It’s Mikayla.” Ian smiles and sits on the side of the bed that Mickey has their daughter cradled in his arm. “Mikayla Gallagher.”

“Ugh,” Mickey scoffs before teasing, “don’t look so proud.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. This whole naming thing might have gone to Ian’s head but it’s completely worth it and is making more sense by the second.

“Yeah well I am fuc-,” Ian pauses and catches sight of Cody, “freaking proud. So get used to it.”

Now that the baby is quieting down, Cody gets curious again. “Can I see prin-cess?” He asks, drawing out his syllables and laying the pleading tone on thick.

David looks between both men, but Mickey speaks before he deduces much. “Sure. Why not. Just…be careful. Okay?”

Cody is nodding quickly, tiny head bobbing up and down as David walks them closer to the bed Mickey’s seated in. “I made sure he washed his hands before we left the house so, don’t worry about that.”

Mickey wasn’t worried about that, which actually worries him now. Was he supposed to worry about that? It hadn’t really entered his head and he feels himself looking like a deer in headlights. Thankfully, David either picked up on it or just has really good timing because he breaks the tension with a joke. “Wow, the kid doesn’t look anything like Katie. I guess she was telling the truth about you two being the parents.”

“Do you do this to all of Katie’s patients? Because I’m pretty sure it’s not helping her career.” Mickey raises an eyebrow at the man.

David’s voice is friendly when he shakes his head. “Nah, just the ones who show up on our doorstep enough that Cody knows your names. Right Cody?”

“Prin. Cess,” is the only response he gets in return when Cody turns the one would into two.

“Okay, okay. Be gentle.” David walks over to the bed and Cody slips out of his arms, crawling without shyness onto Ian’s lap and reaching a hand out to touch Mikayla’s blanketed belly.

Mickey thinks the way Cody stares at the baby in awe is pretty sweet. He’s as gentle as a child can be, but Mickey catches his hand when he tries to go for Mikayla’s face. “Nuh-uhh.” Taking Cody’s hand, Mickey places it on Mikayla’s arm. That seems to amaze Cody because Mikayla shakes her first and finds a way to curl her fingers around Cody’s wrist.

“Alright monkey, how about we let Mickey, Ian, and Mikayla have some breakfast, okay?” David gently disentangles Cody and Mikayla’s hands and sets him on the ground. “Thanks for humoring him,” he says with a kind look towards Ian and Mickey. “He’s been pestering both Katie and I for a little sister so…” His words fall off with a shrug.

“It’s no big deal,” Ian scratches at the back of his head. “He’s a cute kid.”

“Yeah,” David smiles and pauses, like he’s lost thinking of something. Shaking himself out, he retrieves the tray of food and gives it to Ian. “I brought you guys some bagels, juice, and fruit. Hope that’s okay.”

Mickey’s stomach grumbles in response. “That’s awesome. I’m starving!”

“May I?” David asks, gesturing towards the baby. “You know, just so you have your hands free to eat.”

“Uhh, yeah.” Mickey’s not sure why he’s so hesitant. David has obviously held babies; Cody was a baby at some point. He feels the protective thread that’s been growing between him and Mikayla tighten and swallows hard before leaning towards David and letting the man scoop the newborn up.

“Oh, wow, you’re so light. I forgot how light these tiny ones are. She's gorgeous, guys. Well done there.” David smiles, making eye contact with Mickey as he settles Mikayla carefully in her cot. “There you go. All safe and sound till you’re done eating. And you should try walking around a little.” He glances at his watch. “I’m waking Katie up in two hours and she’ll want to check on you. But for now, try to eat and take it easy.” Smiling again, he calls for his son. "Come on Cody. We can come see Mikayla later if it's okay with Mickey and Ian."

And then they were gone, leaving Mickey staring at the door they slipped through. "Shit. We've got a kid."

"You're just realizing this now?" Ian laughs.

"No..I mean...Like...a kid. One who is going to grow up. And...shit. Mandy's an aunt." Mickey feels his thoughts jumbling in his head. He knows they're not coming out right but he's been so selfish in keeping Mikyala between he and Ian that he's just remembering a whole slew of people who want to know that she's arrived and she's staying put with Ian and him. "Like, we've got to tell people. They don't even know she's here and that she's perfect and that..." Mickey's words drop off and he looks at Ian with overwhelmed eyes. "Shit."

Ian's hand covers Mickey, squeezing reassuringly. "Hey. It's okay. How about you handle eating a bagel and then we'll call people. They've got a lifetime of knowing her. How about we just keep her to ourselves a little longer. Okay?" He squeezes Mickey's hand again, this time lacing their fingers together.

And just like that, Mickey feels himself fluttering back to earth. He nods, grabbing a bagel from the tray on Ian's lap. 

They've already given their kid a name today. That's a milestone in itself. He's willing to allow himself some calm before the storm that news of Mikayla's arrival is bound to kick up. 

He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that there is a bubbling of excitement under the surface over the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me forever to update.  
> I am currently sleeping on my mattress on my living room floor because I am doing home construction and my bedroom is uninhabitable. So...I've been busy. Thanks so much for your patience!
> 
> Also - Can you give me an opinion:  
> In this fic, do you think Mickey and Ian equally give themselves to each other in this relationship (emotionally speaking)? Because that is what I am going for and I don't want it to be lopsided.


	19. Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More schmoop...some serious stuff coming up soon.

When Ian gets to cradle Mikayla in his arms again, he uses that time to snap a few more pictures of her. He can't help himself. She looks so sweet and every time he thinks he just captured the perfect photo of her, she does something even better and he finds himself taking another picture.

She’s the most expressional baby Ian’s ever met. Whatever she’s feeling appears to be clearly written on her face and the way she wrinkles her nose or opens her eyes wide. Her dramatic yawns might just be Ian’s favorite.

Or the way she looks when she tries to fit her entire fist in her mouth.

Or the way she looks so peaceful and happy when she blinks up at Ian. Or blinks up at Mickey.

That’s probably his favorite.

And the way she’s clearly been following the sound of their voices, the way her head moves in a slow, smooth repositioning to find one of her fathers; that’s definitely his favorite.

Right now, she goes a little cross-eyed when Ian taps her nose; Ian manages to take a picture of the look on her face and decides that it’s probably his favorite expression.

Mickey’s watching him with an amused smirk on his face. “At the rate you’re going, you’re going to run out of space on your phone.”

“Shuddup,” Ian quips, giving Mickey an unenthused stare. “I am stocking up so that when my family asks, I have an onslaught of pictures to keep them busy. It’s not like they can just drop by and see her.” When the words are out of Ian’s mouth, he realizes that they might not exactly be true. The drive isn’t _that_ long and Fiona’s made the trip over less important things than the birth of her niece. He freezes, rolling his eyes up to see that Mickey looks about the same as he probably does.

“They’re not going to actually drop in, right?” When Mickey raises his brows, the exhaustion setting in under his eyes becomes more apparent.

“Nah. I’m not going to be able to stall them for long but they’ll give us a few days.” Ian wants to see his family, it’s a knee-jerk reaction. The things going on in his life right now are _good_ and he’s struck with the intense desire to share that fact. It’s times like these that make him wish they lived closer because celebrating the good moments with his family are the strong types of memories that draw him away from dark thoughts. Before he can share his new life with his family, however, he and Mickey need time to get on level ground. They feel unsteady enough without the type of chaos – whether it is well meaning or not – the Gallagher clan brings. “Don’t worry, Mick. They’re not showing up on our doorstep tomorrow. I’ll make sure they know that.” The certainty in Ian’s words must work, because Mickey relaxes and sighs.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see them, Ian.” Mickey wets his lips and sighs again.

“I know.” A small smile spreads on his lips and he gets to his feet. “I get it. I feel the same way.” Gesturing towards their daughter, he leans closer to Mickey. “Wanna take her?”

“You don’t look like you wanna give her up,” Mickey counters but reaches out and takes the baby anyway. “We’re going to get tired of this, right? Because right now I feel like you’re the only one who gets to touch her other than me.”

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to burst that bubble, guys,” Katie says, walking into the room looking freshly washed and bright eyed. She gives a sheepish shrug and apologetic smile. “I need to give that little princess a once over. Although, from here, I’d say she’s looking pretty good.”

“Of course she is,” Mickey snorts.

“Of course she is,” Katie repeats, but softer and in total agreement. “But that means you gotta hand her over. Just don’t go all papa bear on me and bite my head off.” She laughs at her own joke.

Eventually, Katie gets Mikayla into her arms and coos down at her. “Hi princess. You’re just the happiest little thing huh?” She pulls the blankets away from her face to reveal more of the baby’s soft skin. Now that Katie’s starting to unblanket her Mikayla squirms at the cooler air hitting her and makes a little puppy snuffle. She whines but is silenced as soon as Katie snuggles the baby more closely to her warm chest. “Aww, shh sweetie.” Face tender with a dopey grin over the baby, she smiles up at Ian and Mickey. “She got a name yet? Cody told me all about her, said her name is Princess. But I’m pretty sure he was missing something.”

“Mikayla Gallagher,” Ian answers. “But Cody calling her Princess probably won’t be far from the mark.”

“Mikayla!” Katie sing-songs at the baby with excited eyes. “Is that your name? Mikayla Gallagher? That’s a big name for such a teeny tiny baby girl!” Her voice is squeaky and she brushes her nose against the baby’s. “You are a princess, aren’t you?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow in distaste. “Ugh…the baby talk.”

“I know, it’s terrible,” Katie laughs, voice raising in pitch. “But I can’t help it sometimes. Not when they’re so itty-bitty!” She makes a clucking sound at the baby and grins.

Ian laughs and gets to his feet. “Okay, give her back. No more baby talk.” However, he understands where Katie is coming from. Something about Mikayla’s adorable face and sweet smell makes him want to squish her to his chest and coo to her all day long. It’s instinctual and even thought Katie’s words sound kind of ridiculous, he knows he feels the same way.

“No can do, boys. She’s gotta get a checkup. How’s she been?” Katie takes Mikayla over to a small exam table on the outskirt of the room but still in Ian and Mickey’s line of sight.

“Good. I think…right?” Mickey answers, scratching at the back of his neck and looking at Ian for assistance.

“Yeah. Slept like an angel. Ate like a little pig.” Ian elaborates.

“Oh, so she’s been going easy on you for seven hours?” Katie raises an eyebrow and laughs. She focuses all of her attention on Mikayla, manipulating her limbs and listening to her heart and lungs. The baby starts wailing loudly as soon as Katie puts an infant stethoscope on her chest. “Oh, sweetie, don’t blow my ears out.” She tries to make her exam as quick as possible, jotting down Mikayla’s vitals, weight and length. “She’s perfect,” Katie exclaims while wrapping her up. Mikayla’s still crying as Katie bounces her gently and returns her to Mickey’s arms.

Mickey winces at the sound of the Mikayla’s loud wails. “Aye, why you cryin’?” It’s awkward at first, but he manages to switch Mikayla round so she’s in the crook of his left arm. He clears his throat and says, “hey, you,” in hushed tones, rocking her slightly. “Hey,” he tries again and it’s several seconds before Mikayla reacts to his attempts to sooth her and quiets down, her breathing is hitching on the edge of her cries. Instead of sounding like wails, they start becoming those puppy whines she has come to favor.

“She definitely knows who you are,” Katie muses.

That warms Ian’s heart. He is starting to really love seeing Mikayla react to Mickey and vice versa. He licks his lips and asks a question he hadn’t let himself think too much about. “She’s okay though, right? I mean, I know she was born a few weeks early.

“She’s great. Her heart and lungs sound good. She’s a bit small but she always was, even when I measured her in utero. 19 inches, 6lbs 2oz. She’ll grow.” She gestured towards the way Mikayla is rooting her head against Mickey’s chest, her whines changing from ones of upset to one of demand. “Though, it looks like she wants something to eat. How long ago did you feed her?”

“Um, a little over two hours ago,” Ian says, already getting up to make his daughter a fresh bottle.

Katie nods. “Yeah, she’s hungry.” She momentarily pauses in thought, eyes going from Mickey to Ian. “You know what? I’d feel a whole lot better if I got a chance to exam Mickey. Having a baby, even one as sweet as Mikayla, asks a lot from one’s body. I’m pretty sure he’d like some privacy for that. So, Ian, if you don’t mind, maybe you can give us a little time? Mickey can feed Mikayla while we talk.”

Ian shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He knows she has a point, Mickey’s barely been out of the bed and Ian is unsettled every time Mickey winces or gasps when he shifts the wrong way. “Yeah…no…that makes sense.” He pauses in the middle of making the bottle and gives Mickey a smile. “I can get out of your way for a bit. Let Jason know what is going on. Our little princess wasn’t supposed to arrive for a few weeks. Jason and I weren’t completely settled on how things were going to go with the business,” he explains for Katie’s sake.

Mickey nods, sucking in his lips.

“What?” Ian asks, watching Mickey’s eyes dart away. “I can stay if you want…Like Katie said, I figured you would want a little privacy.”

“Shit, it’s not that,” Mickey scoffs. “Katie’s right. You saw a kid come out of me. You don’t need to see the aftermath. You should go…go see Jason and stuff.” He pauses for an intake of air. “It’s just that…I’ve never fed a kid before. Not one this little. And…shit…I dunno. Maybe you feed her and then go?”

Ian swears he sees a hint of something blushing Mickey’s cheeks and his heart knots up. He’s trying to figure out a tactic for handling the situation but it’s taking too long so he just shoves the prepared bottle in Mickey’s hand. “Nope. Your turn. She went easy on me when I fed her. I am pretty sure she’s going to be even better for you. Look at her, she’s blinking up at you like you’re her whole world.”

It’s true. Kayla is still making persistent hunger whimpers but she’s staring at Mickey, her facial muscles tensing as she waits for her dad to get on the same page. She lets out a particularly demanding noise and roots around in search of something to suckle. Her bow lips catch on the loose fabric of the medical gown Mickey’s wearing.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work, sweetheart,” Mickey says as a laugh takes him off guard. Taking a deep breath, he straightens up and tries bringing the bottle towards her lips. At first, Mikayla ignores it, still focusing her attention on the fabric she’s busied herself with, but once Mickey nudges the nipple closer to her mouth she tests it out. Milk hits her tongue and she abandons the medical gown, turning her face to latch onto the nipple more soundly. Lips making a series of quick sucking motions before slowing down for a beat and then repeating the process, Mikayla sounds like a piglet as she tries to drain the bottle. The bottle’s angle makes it so she has to work for it and she whines.

Ian quickly reaches out and corrects the fact, changing the way Mickey’s holding the bottle, and then everything clicks more perfectly. Mikayla makes a content coo and in her process of wiggling closer to Mickey, one of her hands reaches out to rest against the one Mickey’s holding the bottle with.

It’s fucking adorable, Ian thinks. He knows the plan was to leave Mickey in Katie’s capable hands but now he doesn’t want to move an inch. He wants to watch what’s happening because, even though he’s sure Mickey’s not aware he’s doing it, Mickey starts making content humming noises and moves the fingers of the hand holding the bottle so that they elicit grabbing motions from Mikayla’s hand.

“That kid’s not going to give you two many problems when it comes to meal time,” Katie ponders. “I think you both get passing grades for being able to feed your daughter. Although, to be fair, I think she’s going easy on both of you. This princess has got to have some tricks up her sleeves.”

Mickey snorts. “She’s our kid. Trust me, she’s got tricks.” He sounds proud and he sits a fraction taller.

Getting to his feet, Ian feels like he’s got to rip the bandage off now because if he keeps staring at the way Mikayla fixates on Mickey, he’s not going anywhere. That would turn out to be a bigger problem in the long run because he and Mickey have _nothing_ at home for Mikayla. If they want to bring her home, they need more things than he can think of but a car seat seems like a good place to start. He has errands to do and needs to speak to Jason. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon, sweetie. Be a good girl.” He leaves another soft kiss there and then raises up so he can kiss Mickey’s lips. “I’ll try not to be long, okay?” He touches their foreheads together and feels the way Mickey inhales deeply and slowly. Their lips graze again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Mickey juts his chin so that they’re able to kiss more forcefully. The moment feels frozen like that and they share that same air and something crackles between them. There is a tightening of the wires connecting them and Mickey says exactly what Ian needs to hear before he goes. “I love you.” The words are solid and settle into a collection in Ian’s heart.

“Love you too.” Pulling back, Ian is able to kiss Mickey one last time. “I’ll hurry back…back to you and Kayla…so we can go home and…” Ian pauses, not sure how to word the ways his world has changed in ten hours. He settles on, “and be us.”

He leaves before finding any excuse to stay even one second longer.

Once he’s gone and seated in the car, the distance between him and Mickey hurts more than it ever has before and they’re barely 100 feet apart. It kicks up something in his brain and he feels things turn over. Having a kid is a natural reason to leave one’s emotions heightened with a burst of over excitement. But he needs to air on the side of caution; it is a slippery slope. Snagging his pill case from the glove compartment, he pops his pills into his mouth and swallows them dry.

Driving away is going to suck.

***

Kayla really is going easy on them. She burped before Mickey really even had to do anything. Katie showed him how to hold her forward against the palm of one hand while he thumped her back with the other; Mikayla let out a burp after only one firm try and promptly decided to go back to sleep.

Mickey sympathized. He’d passed out enough times after eating to know the feeling.

“She’s fucking cute,” Mickey says, watching Katie take his daughter from him and nestle her into the cot at his side.

“Yeah, she fucking is,” Katie mimics, smiling and shaking her head. Once Mikayla is safe and sound, Katie returns to Mickey and without warning, punches him in the shoulder.

It doesn’t really hurt but Mickey pulls back anyway. “Oww, what the fuck?”

“That’s for kicking me last night. Now we’re even.”

Mickey rubs at his arm and raises an eyebrow at her. “Guess I deserved that.” His goal hadn’t been the act of kicking Katie, he just wanted her far away from him. Kicking her seemed like the quickest way of making that happen and in the throes of labor, he went with it. In the end, he got to deliver Kayla himself and the decision turned out to be the right one. Catching Mikayla like that felt powerful, a bond he needed to forge between them, and he wasn’t going to apologize for that. He isn’t sorry but he is appreciative. “Thanks…for everything.”

“You did all the hard work. I just made sure things didn’t go south. But, you’re welcome.” Katie smiles, her voice going from cheerfully pleasant to more serious. “You…and Kayla…you’re pretty much the reasons why I love my job. It’s…” She makes a gesture with her hands while she searches for the words. “You done good. And that perfect little girl is a reminder of how lucky I am to be a part of this time in parents’ lives. So, yeah. You’re welcome. But I guess I should thank you and Ian for spicing things up a little for me. It’s not every day that someone does what you two did.”

Mickey’s gut reaction is to respond with some snarky comment about people having kids every day, people who never have to agonize over deciding to keep and raise them. But he doesn’t because he and Katie both know that they’re on the same page of understanding. He nods instead, and shit, he realizes it matters to him what she thinks. For as closed off as their relationship began, Mickey knows that what is going on between them has crossed the border of doctor-patient into friendship. Casting a glance at Kayla, he licks his lips. “What am I going to do with her?”

“You’re going to love her.” Katie snaps on a pair of exam gloves and shrugs. “When I first met you, I wasn’t sure what you were going to do with the baby. But it became pretty clear that you were already a better parent to her than some of the other patients I’ve worked with. I had a gut feeling you’d keep her, you just had to figure that out.” She breaks down the end of the bed and pulls up the stirrups. “It’s fucking scary taking a newborn home and realizing you’re all by yourself. I mean…I had David, but still…we were all by ourselves. We had this tiny helpless thing and we had to make sure Cody didn’t die, or we didn’t die. And it’s exhausting and terrifying and,” she sighs and finishes with the last word coming out through a smile, “awesome.” She gestures for Mickey to help her place each of his heels in the stirrups. “You and Ian will figure it out. David and I did; Cody is still here and I think he’s pretty cute. So, I couldn’t have done it all wrong.”

Mickey stares at the ceiling for a breath before daring to look Katie in the eyes. “I’ve done a lot of things wrong.”

“Yeah, well, _that_ ,” she points to Mikayla, “isn’t one of them. That little girl’s got two dad…daddies…” She scrunches her face up in thought and cocks her head to one side. “What is Mikayla gonna call you?”

Mickey hadn’t given the question a single thought before, but to be fair, he hadn’t thought about a lot of things. His mind whirled thought thoughts and his heart pounded faster at the thought that Mikayla is going to grow up and call him _something_. Memories rise to the surface and there is no way in hell he is going to let her call him pops because the word is too damaged by the fact that he called his own father that. A shiver travels along his spine and he sucks in a breath at the thought of the disgust his father would have for Mikayla, the instant hate that is both unfair and wounding. “I dunno…Ian and I can both be ‘dad’ or something.”

Katie nods in agreement. “Just asking. Some people are particular about that.” She focuses on examining Mickey for a moment but flips back to the conversation as means to distract him from the discomfort he might feel. “Well, so Mikayla has two dads who love her. She’s going to be just fine.”

Mickey nods and flits his eyes up towards the ceiling again. Why does everyone keep saying that to him and Ian? Do they know something he doesn’t? Because, that type of confidence is starting to wear on him. He knows he’ll be fine, he’s just got to grab onto the decision. Still, his brain feels like a tornado tore through it and turned everything on its side, which is unsettling. There is worry over how he’s going to manage raising a kid he never felt prepared for while keeping his relationship with Ian as strong as it is. The worry over Ian is permanently branded on his heart and Mickey is scared about adding a new brand right next to it for worry over Mikayla. It’s going to be too much. “Fuck,” he shouts, letting his thoughts verbalize.

Katie freezes. “Did I hurt you?”

“No…I…” Mickey chews his lip. “I was just thinking. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“So…you’re alright?” Katie drawls out.

“Yeah.” Mickey rolls his eyes and hates himself. Since when did he become this person? It feels like he’s losing his mind. If he had to bet, he guess Katie will tell him it’s those fucking hormones that he’s spent a lot of his time trying to ignore but always ended up realizing that they wreak havoc on him. He winces when Katie’s exam leads her to a tender spot. “Okay, that hurts.”

“Sorry. But I’m done. You look good. Gonna wanna see you in four to six weeks but, for now, your right on track. Enjoy the peace here for a while, but you can go home tonight. You have anything you’re concerned about? Questions?”

“She gets to come with me, right?” Mickey asks dumbly.

“Of course she does. But you need to get set up with a pediatrician. I can recommend some who I think you’ll like, or at least tolerate.”

“Oh, okay,” Mickey really wants to hold Mikayla again and since Katie wants him to walk around, he figures using his legs to get him closer to his daughter is a good opportunity to follow her orders. He hurts in places he’d rather not think about but it’s manageable. When he reaches Mikayla, she’s sleeping peacefully. He almost hesitates picking her up in fear of waking her…almost. Gently, he scoops her into his arms, fear making him hold her a little closer to his chest than necessary. She wakes enough to give him a huge yawn but by the time he slowly seats himself in the chair beside the bed, she’s back asleep. Her teeny body is easy to reposition, and in the end Mikayla ends up with her cheek resting over Mickey’s heart and her body belly down like she was the first time he held her. He can hear the lecture someone, probably Fiona, will give him about spoiling her but Mickey doesn’t give a shit. Let Kayla be spoiled. Mickey sure as hell wasn’t given that luxury and this seems like the time to make up for it. Spoiling Mikayla comes in the form of being held. Not only is that something he can do for free, but it’s something that he likes doing too. An idea hits him and he says the word aloud to see if he’s got it right. “Tato.”

“Huh?” Katie says, glancing at them while tossing her gloves.

“Tato. It means ‘dad’ in Ukrainian. She can call me that, if she wants. So it’s less confusing.” Mickey dips his chin down and kisses her soft hair.

“I didn’t realize you spoke Ukrainian.”

“I don’t. Not really. There are just some words, stupid ones that don’t help with much, that I know. I’m a fucking mutt through and through. Hell, I don’t even know what races came together to make me and my siblings. But Ukrainian is one of them.” He shrugs and lets the weight of his thoughts fall away to reveal a lighter mood. “Well, unless you count Irish. I’m Irish by injection.”

It takes a few seconds for understanding to wash over Katie’s confused face. Once it does, she lets out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, well, no ‘injections’ for at least six weeks. And unless you want another kid, use birth control. You’re gonna be crazy fertile.”

Mickey cringes at the idea. “Yeah. We’ll do that.”

“I’m going to head back to the house for a bit. I’ll bring over a sandwich in a few hours.” It’s not an offer, it’s an order. “But call if you need me, okay?’

Nodding, Mickey goes back to focusing on Mikayla and wiggling his index finger into her palm so she can reflexively grab on. Katie’s only gone for a few moments when he reaches out and grabs his phone from its resting place on the side table. He doesn’t want to actually share Mikayla, but he wants to put it out there to the world that she exists. Like it’s some way for him to say fuck you to the world for making him think he couldn’t do this. Dialing Mandy’s number, he waits till the phone connects. She barely gets a word out before he cuts her of. “Hey Mands. You’re and aunt. Her name’s Mikayla.”

***

Ian somehow manages to leave the store with only a newborn car seat. There are a thousand other things he wanted to get but he needs a few days to assess his and Mickey’s financial situation. When he finishes up the sale of some furniture and rearranges some things, he thinks they’ll be fine.

Strapping the thing into his car is easy enough, he must have messed with a handful of models over the years, although none of the ones the Gallaghers used a car seat as nice as the one he now has fitted in the backseat of his truck. As he drives towards his workspace, Ian can’t stop himself from looking back in the rearview mirror, catching small glimpses of the new addition to the car and his heart speeds up over the fact that Mikayla is going to be snapped into that seat soon. He’s partially terrified over that and partially ecstatic.

He’s going to have to drive around with his newborn in the car. Anything can happen on the road.

Then he’s going to have to take her home. Anything can happen to her there too.

He’s not able to work himself into an endless chain of worry because he pulls up to the workshop just as Jason is stepping out of his own car.

“Hey!” Jason says with a friendly wave and huge open mouthed grin. “I didn’t think I would see you here today.”

“Hi.” Running a hand through his hair, Ian gives a return smile. “Yeah, didn’t really think I was going to be. But...but plans changed. Didn’t think Mickey would have the baby this early.” Ian crosses his arms over his chest and leans against his truck.

“How’s Mickey doing?” Jason mimics Ian’s stance and since their cars are parked parallel to one another, it leaves him facing Ian dead on.

“He’s good. Tired, but good.” Sincerity bubbles over and a genuine smile creeps up Ian’s face. Mickey _is_ good. They’re good. Ian thinks that there is a good chance they’ve never been this good.

“Yeah, Naomi looked like the happiest zombie I’ve ever met right after Jayda was born. So I get it.” A secret smile on his lips, Jason shakes his head at the memory. “Glad to hear Mickey’s okay. Baby okay?”

Somehow, Ian’s smile broadens. “She’s great.”

Eyes widening, Jason asks, “She? It’s a girl?”

“Yeah. Mikayla. Six pounds, two ounces and perfect.” Ian feels warmth spread out from his heart. “She’s got Mickey’s eyes and my hair, I think. And she’s perfect,” he repeats.

“You got pictures, man?”

“Uhh, yeah.” Fishing his phone out, Ian turns it on to reveal a very demanding text from Mandy stating, “ASSHOLE. I want pictures. Now!” and he guesses that Mickey must have told his sister that Mikayla arrived. Putting responding to Mandy on the back burner, Ian opens his photos and scrolls to the first one he took of Mikayla, cradled in Mickey’s arms. Ian loves that one. He loves the way Mickey is blatantly cooing at their daughter in ways that he’ll probably deny. His daughter is holding onto Mickey’s finger, looking up at him so that it appears they’re sharing a mutual awe. “Here,” he says, as he holds the phone towards Jason. You can scroll. There are better ones of her face.”

Jason takes the phone, eyes scanning the photo. “Oh shit, look at that!” He swipes his finger across the screen, stopping at a picture of Mikayla giving a wide eyed stare. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah. She is.” Ian leans over and scrolls through the pictures for Jason, pausing on one of Mikayla giving a sweet sleepy yawn. “I like that one, she looks so cute. And she’s in my arms there.”

Giving Ian a knowing look, Jason smirks. “Look at you, proud papa.” He hands the phone back to Ian and claps him on the back. “You keeping her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

“Congrats, man! I can tell by the smile on your face that she’s already got you tied around her fingers.” He shares a smile with Ian and says “that’s awesome,” with sincerity. “Hey, I hope you’re not insulted but,” pausing, he walks around his truck and takes out a large garbage bag. “I kinda figured from the way you and Mickey were acting that you’d end up keeping her. Guess it was a hunch. Naomi and I have a ton of clothing from Jayda that doesn’t fit her anymore. We were going to donate it but, seeing as you just had a baby girl yourself, we figured you might want it.”

Ian is temporarily stunned by Jason’s offer. He stands there, blinking at him in silence.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to offend you. It isn’t like…a pity offer. It’s good stuff. I figured I would rather – “

Ian cuts him off. “No! I’m not offended. I’m just…I guess the right word is touched. That’s really generous of you. I mean, it’s awesome. We have _nothing_. Thanks, man.” He pulls Jason into a hug, startling the other man at first but he eventually catches on and returns Ian’s hug. “You have no idea how thankful we are.”

“I remember needing all the help we could get when Jayda was born. I figured I might as well pay it forward. It’s a good thing you had a girl, or your son would be walking around in some pretty frilly outfits.” They both share a laugh and Jason swings the bag into the back of Ian’s truck. “I wish we could do more, but Jayda needs the rest of her furniture. I brought a bassinet in the back of my car, one she grew out of. Jayda slept in that for the first two months. If you guys have nothing, that is definitely going to come in handy.”

“Really? You’re sure?” Ian is floored. He is used to living in a world where everyone pitches in to help others but he’s also painfully familiar with a world that takes. “You’re a life saver.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ve been in your shoes. First time dad. No idea what you’re doing. Us new dads need to stick together or the kids will destroy us.” He laughs, reaching into his car and pulling out a delicate looking white bassinet.

Ian takes it from him and stares at it for a moment, picturing Mikayla sleeping soundly in it. “I’m going to try to build a crib for Mikayla. Until I figure out how to do that, I think this will be perfect. Thank you!” The bassinet gets deposited safely in the truck with the hand-me-down clothing. “You know,” he says as he turns towards Jason. “You can use the workshop to make furniture for yourself. As long as regular work is done, feel free. I mean, it’s the least I can do and it isn’t even enough.”

“I might have to take you up on that. Jayda is going to be needing a bed soon. So, maybe.” Jason rocks back on his heels and gestures towards the workspace with his chin. “Wanna get work business out of the way so you can get back to Mickey and your daughter?”

The sound of someone saying “your daughter” makes Ian’s heart flutter. “Yeah. Sounds great. I’ll meet you in there in a second. I have something I need to do real quick.”

Jason nods and disappears inside while Ian leans against the truck again and composes a new text message on his phone, sending it to his siblings, Mandy, Kev and Veronica and attaching the picture of Mickey cuddling Mikayla that he first showed Jason.

_Hi, I promise to call you and tell you all about it but Mickey and I need a day or 2 to get used to being parents to this gorgeous girl._

_Mikayla Gallagher_

_19in    6lb 2oz_

_perfect_

_baby and daddies are doing good_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Ukrainian but I did a linguistics study of Russian and Ukrainian for work and learned that there are a ton of ways to say dad but Tato is one of them and I think it is adoreable. Hope you agree!


	20. Ebb and Flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bridge to the next few chapters. There is some hormonal stuff and major self-confidence issues going on. I think it's important that I don't just jump into schmoopy baby happiness. And I am sorry if it feels like Ian and Mickey keep going in circles, but...they tend to do that. I wish they just had confidence in themselves rather than just each other. Don't worry, they will figure it out. Hope you like it!

Mickey isn’t sure what wakes him but his eyes flutter open even though his body feels like it’s still sucked down into sleep. Groaning, he turns his head and squeezes his eyes closed tightly, hoping maybe it’s a cruel joke and his brain will let him fall back asleep.

Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Mickey’s consciousness isn’t settling down. He pushes himself up and groans again, wincing at the realization that any soreness he’d felt prior to delivering Kayla couldn’t hold a candle to what he felt right now. Instinct makes his hands go to his middle; he’s become so accustomed to physical contact with the evidence that his child was growing in the swell at his middle. Only, Mikayla isn’t safe and sound inside of him anymore. His hands still find evidence that she’d been inside him two days ago and Mickey’s heart tightens up.

For as much as he hated being pregnant, his brain is going a bit haywire and he feels spikes of adrenaline at the realization that his daughter isn’t with him 24/7. He hate himself for it, but he panics. The slowness he felt at waking dissipates and his eyes open wide. The room is dark and it takes time or his eyes to adjust but he realizes quickly that Ian’s side of the bed is empty and so is the tiny bassinet that Ian had set up when they’d arrived home with Kayla for the first time.

Blinking several times, he notices a flickering coming from their television, illuminating the way Ian’s knees jut out from his position on the couch. The view Mickey has from the bed doesn’t allow him to see much more, but his heart slows a bit. He feels like an idiot to have plunged himself into worry because _that_ has never happened before. The exhaustion is wearing on him and now he has to add this new dramatic turn to the list of things that make no sense to him.

Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, Mickey winces again and slowly steps down and makes his way towards Ian. He finds his boyfriend asleep, head turned to the left, chin practically resting on his own shoulder and his lips slack and parted as he breathes rhythmically. Ian is slumped down so that he’s sinking in against the backrest of the couch and his legs stretch out further than they usually would be if he was sitting properly. The detail, however, that Mickey gets stuck on is the fact that Mikayla is asleep on his chest. Ian must have been using one of his old army shirts as a drool cloth because the baby is slumbering on top of it, settled just over Ian’s heart and resting on one chubby check, lips parted in a miniature mirrored version on her father’s.  One of Ian’s arms is draped protectively over her while the other has fallen to the side, a mostly drained bottle help loosely in his hand.

Mickey’s heart stutters in his chest and his intake of air is audible. There are things anchoring themselves in his heart and he wasn’t prepared for any of them. This kid is a force of nature. She must be. Because somehow she has turned Mickey Milkovich into an emotional mess.

Mickey’s not sure what to do with that fact; he’s in alien territory. It seems appropriate given the fact that he had spent weeks fairly certain that Mikayla was an alien when she first started wiggling around inside of him. Taking another deep breath, the panic he’d felt during the confusion of not being able to locate Mikayla as soon as he woke starts to give way towards appreciation for Ian.

Ian looks bushed, and Mickey figures it’s because he’s been going non-stop since they woke up in the hospital. Actually, he’s not even sure how long Ian slept. Part of his gut twists in worry over that fact but for the most part Mickey’s so tired that he makes that a problem for tomorrow. Since they arrived home at their small apartment, all 6lb 2oz of Kayla has managed to fill every space in the room. Two days ago, Mickey would have put up a fight over Ian fussing over him; he would have spouted some knee-jerk defensive statement about not needing Ian’s help. Except, now that Mikayla is here, Mickey _does_ need his help. He has no idea what he’s doing and he’s terrified he’s going to break her. She’s too delicate and his hands have seen too much destruction. Somehow Ian manages to quell that worry. He gets them home safe, and gets Mickey comfortable on the couch with Mikayla snuggled into his arms. There is something about the way Ian moves, the way his fingers trace the ones Mickey is using to explore the new tiny human they created together, that ground Mickey. Ian’s seen Mickey hold fragile things in his hands and not break them; Mickey’s held Ian’s heart for years. He’d stumbled once, admittedly they both had, and when their relationship went through growing pains they dropped, kicked, and bruised each other’s hearts. Now, however, they’re good. Mickey knows how to treat soft things. Sometimes he just needs Ian to remind him. That part is almost second nature, the way Ian swoops in and bolsters Mickey up. There is no guilt over it because the reverse is true as well, and Mickey’s gotten skilled at catching Ian before he can shatter.

Watching Mikayla and Ian sleep, Mickey wonders if the moment it ticking towards breaking, if Ian’s stamina is going to run out and Mickey’s going to have to be the one to remind Ian that he’s strong enough to keep focus on the softer things in life that need him to keep his head on straight. It’s going to happen, that’s how things are between them. As scary as it is sometimes, the push and pull keeps them alive.

At the moment, however, things seem level. Perfect.

Ian has been everything to the baby. He’s insisted on not allowing Mickey to do more than hold or feed her. It’s going to get old real fast but for a day or two, Mickey’s body appreciates the free pass on diaper duty or doing anything more strenuous than figuring out who Mikayla is. The quip that Mickey can hold his own and doesn’t need Ian to do everything for him is on the tip of his tongue but he’s so touched by Ian’s offer that he swallows it down. He’s exceedingly thankful over the fact that his boyfriend has enough hands on training with infants that, while they’re not entirely sure what they’re doing, they are riding upward on the learning curve. Jason’s help also has him feeling like an idiot for once disliking the man. The type of generosity Jason and his wife have bestowed on Ian and Mickey in the form of much needed baby goods floors Mickey. That type of kindness is sparse in Mickey’s life and it takes his brain a few hours to figure out if it’s due to Jason having an ulterior motive. The only thing Mickey can come up with is that since Ian _is_ his boss, Jason’s probably not looking for more than a “thank you” and a few brownie points.

Right now, Mikayla is in the smallest onesie Mickey and Ian could find in the bag of Jayda’s hand-me-downs. It’s labeled as newborn but it’s still big. Katie had remarked that Mikayla is on the small side but Mickey thinks she’s perfect. Psychologically, and maybe physically, Mickey’s not sure how his body would have handled her being larger. Emotionally, she’s ridiculously cute and Mickey smiles over the fact that the tiny onesie is large enough on her to slip down over her right shoulder.

Reaching out, Mickey leans down and gently removes Mikayla from Ian’s chest. As soon as her light weight is transferred completely into Mickey’s arms, Ian startles awake, hands grabbing out and a gasp leaving his lips. He looks wild-eyed in a way that Mickey hasn’t seen since the worst of Ian’s hallucination attacks. “Aye,” Mickey says, holding Kayla against his own chest with one arm and reaching out to settle Ian. “It’s just me. She’s fine.”

Ian’s tense as the words take their time sinking in. His breathing is a far cry from the soft peaceful breaths he’d been taking in sleep and he’s fallen into quick worried pants. “Shit, Mick.” He puts a hand over his heart and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.” Sighing, Mickey squeezes Ian’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t think…” He sucks in his lips. “I wasn’t trying to fucking scare you. I just thought I would take her...’cause you need to get some sleep Ian.”

“Yeah, so do you.” Ian runs a hand through his hair and pushes the strands that fell out of place off his forehead.

“You’ve been making sure of that,” Mickey says, moving his head so as to punctuate the words. “Come on. Bed. Sleep.” He kicks Ian’s shin to make his point.

Ian grumbles, shut the television off and gets to his feet. Making his way towards the bed, he peels of layers of clothing until he’s left in only his boxers. When he sinks down onto the bed it looks more like he’s slithering under the covers and trying to melt into them.

Mickey’s slower to join him because he’s torn about what to do with Mikayla. She’s making trivial whimpering noises in her sleep as she shifts in a way that makes her look like she’s trying to snuggle closer to Mickey. “Shit,” Mickey says under his breath because he’s not ready to put her back into her bassinet. Returning to the bed, he manages to lay on his side, letting most of Mikayla’s weight settle onto the empty space on the mattress between him and Ian. The way that both men are laying, they form a protective parenthetical shape around her.

Ian’s eyes travel from Mikayla to Mickey’s face and he raises an eyebrow. Despite being tired, Ian’s lips tug up in a lopsided grin. “You’re setting a bad precedent.”

“Shud’dup.” Mickey throws his middle finger in Ian’s line of vision. “It’s just for a little while. I…I’m kind of awake now. I figured I could hang out with her a little bit while you slept. I’ll put her in the bassinette thingy before I get tired.” Mickey lets his head fall on the pillow, giving him a sideways view of Ian until the younger man follows suit and they are eye to eye again. In the two day’s Mikayla’s been home, they’ve taken to keeping the room light enough at night so that they don’t trip over themselves or her. It’s just enough light to allow Mickey to pick up on subtleties worn on Ian’s face. Reaching a hand, Mickey traces them, trailing his fingers across Ian’s forehead and down the lines of his jaw and back up again. Ian is drawn to the movement, closing his eyes while tilting his chin and pressing closer to Mickey’s caress. “Hey,” Mickey whispers loud enough that the sound hits Ian’s ears and urges him to open his eyes. “You okay?”

“Mmm hmm, jus’ tired.” Ian yawns, his face looking even more worn than it was before. It shoots a spike of worry through Mickey and he bites his lip.

“You sleep. I’ll get her when she wakes up.” Mickey’s fingers slowly brush the hair away from Ian’s forehead so there is a larger amount of room for him to press a kiss there. His lips soft and lingering, he keeps the connection until the angle he needs to arch his body in order to keep the connection becomes uncomfortable. Laying down again, they blink at each other in the dimness. Ian’s eyes are struggling to stay open, each blink becoming a slower and elongated action. Eventually, Ian loses the power to keep his eyes open and his breath peters out into a soft rhythmic cycle of inhaling and exhaling. Mickey keeps mapping out the contours of Ian’s face and watches him sleep. It’s hard to miss how exhausted Ian looks, but Mickey can’t help but find is endearing, attractive in a way that is new for him. Ian’s sexy but this isn’t about that, although Mickey can’t help but appreciate that under the exhaustion, Ian’s lips still look ridiculously tempting. The thing he truly ensnared by is how selfless Ian’s been, what an amazing father and partner he’s being. It’s cliché as hell but Mickey is completely snagged in the reality that he’s finding new and deeper ways to love Ian. Brushing his hair back again, he stretches out to give one last quick kiss on his forehead before mirroring a scaled down version of the action on Mikayla.

As tired as he’s been, he’s awake enough now to stay awake and watch the two of them. Kayla is sleeping, hands thrown over her head as she snuffles in her sleep. The way she’s laying, it looks like she’s snuggled most of her left side into Ian’s chest; even though he’s sleeping, Ian protectively curls a fraction closer to her.

This part of Mickey’s life was never figured out and maybe that’s why he feels so unsteady trying to navigate through it. It’s daunting and scary but this exact moment feels anything but. He’s taken care of Ian like this before and he’ll watch him sleep a little longer just to reaffirm that Ian’s safe. It’s probably the thing he’s the best at in life and maybe Mikayla will give him time to figure her out in the same way.

Right now, he’s got it under control.

***

Mickey is really terrible at changing Mikayla’s diaper.

Like, _really_ terrible.

To be fair, he’s never done it before.

Not once.

When he was at Katie’s, everyone else dealt with that for him. When they came home, Ian refused to allow Mickey even though Mickey tried to figure it out. But now, Mickey is left to his own devices before he promised to let Ian sleep and there is no way in hell he is breaking that promise. Ian is out cold, so deep in sleep that Mikayla’s squeaky cries hadn’t even caused him to stir.

“Aye, if you stopped squirming, we’d be done with this by now,” Mickey scoffs at his daughter. The newborn is placed in the middle of their couch on a towel, finally completely nude. Stripping her of the onesie she’d slept in, and consequentially dirtied by peeing through her diaper, was a process. Mickey was damn near close to cutting the thing off because he didn’t want to tug it over her tiny head. He figured swapping out the dirty diaper for a fresh one would be a simple exchange; it looked that way when Ian did it. But he finds himself taking too much time, using too many wipes, and before he even gets a new diaper under her, she’s peeing again and soaking the towel and his hand. “Hey! What the fuck!” Huffing out an exhale through his nose, he moves her over to a dry part of the towel and sets about using a new handful of baby-wipes, finally tucking a clean diaper under her. “You’re disgusting. How can you be so disgust –,” his words trail off and he shakes his head. “You know what? Forget I asked. Pretty sure I know.” He shakes his head at her but she’s either blatantly disregarding him or just doesn’t give a shit. Or, she’s a baby and has no idea what he’s saying and Mickey’s a complete idiot for having such expectations of her. Snorting, he tries to fasten her diaper but that’s a mess too. It’s on backwards, then it’s tugged too low, then it’s too high. By the time it seems right, he can figure out if he’s fastening it too tightly or loosely. If this whole diapering thing fails, he’ll have to chalk it up to being a learning experience and try again. They have a spanking new pack of diapers, it’s not the end of the world if he wastes one.

Mikayla puppy whimpers and Mickey hopes he didn’t traumatize her from turning a one minute ordeal into ten. She’s curling her hands up by her face and trying to eat her fist again, eyes skirting actually looking at Mickey. Looking at her, Mickey sighs. He wishes he was better at this because she deserves that. The insecurity twists something in his gut but the minute she whimpers again he puts the thought on hold and scoops her up into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. No crying, ehh? Your dad is sleeping.” This time, Mikayla blinks her big blue eyes directly at Mickey and fixates on him. “Look at you. You’re fucking perfect.” He finds it hard to breathe when a wave of emotion hits him and he swallows thickly. “Fuck,” he says softly, taking a shaky breath. He has no idea what is going on with him but going from being fine to being on the edge of crying in five seconds flat is alien territory. He fucking hates it and rubs at his eyes with the back of his free hand. There are too many things weighing down on him: finishing up work he swore he’d finish before Mikayla was born and all the elements that come with figuring out what to do now that Mikayla is here and _never_ leaving. Blinking away the blurred vision, he sees Mikayla staring at him, bow lipped and following his voice. “Shit, stop looking at me like that.” But Mickey doesn’t mean one word of the request. It’s just that she’s so pretty and her red hair is sticking straight up like she’s a duckling, all fresh and new and sweet. There is so much Ian in her and so much of him. “Shit,” he curses again, this time feeling a tear sneak out and he has to brush it away with the heel of his hand.

It’s warm enough in the apartment that Mickey leaves her in only a diaper, hoisting her up over his chest and walking towards the kitchen sink. She’s probably hungry. Kayla’s been on earth for barely three days and Mickey already knows what the particular puppy whines she’s making means.

Making her bottle is easy because there are rules to it and the bottle stays still when you try to fuss with it. Feeding her is easy too because he’s done that plenty of times and Mikayla _loves_ eating. She’s noisy about it every time and kicks happily when she gets a good suckle going. Her eyes keep focused on Mickey’s in a way that makes him think she knows he’s responsible for her meal. She spits the nipple out, and scrunches her face, but her features change to ones of surprise the second Mickey props her on his shoulder and thumps her back. Thankfully, she goes easy on him and burps quickly so that she can get back to scarfing down her bottle. Her feet land against Mickey’s forearm with a happy, solid kick and Mickey smirks. “Yeah, don’t miss that happening to my insides.”

Except, in a weird sick way, Mickey does. He misses her inside him because it was easier. Even when he didn’t know what to do, it was like his body figured it out for him. She was safe inside him. Mickey couldn’t drop her or hold her wrong. He didn’t have to worry about her neck and watching out for her head. Now, he’s barely been awake with Mikayla for more than 30 minutes and he’s already been peed on, used half of their baby-wipes, probably fucked up diapering her, and has spit up on his shoulder from where he burped her. But then Mikayla tongues the bottle out of her mouth and looks up at Mickey with milky lips, eyes blinking as she makes soft noises of contentment. It doesn’t stop the conflicted pang in Mickey’s gut but it does give him some clarity. It seems insane that he misses being pregnant because _he really doesn’t._ He doesn’t miss that, but he misses the connection with his girl. Looking at her, however, makes him realize that getting to know her outside of the womb is better. He’s still a jumbled mess inside, but holding Kayla’s gaze is proof that they’re still connected.

“How are you three days old and already as good at prying open my heart as your other father?” Mickey laughs quietly when Mikayla’s response is a giant yawn. “Yeah, okay, play dumb.”

Mikayla does. She coos and blinks, kicking her feet against Mickey and he laughs again when she manages to curl her tiny hand around Mickey’s middle finger.

Ian waking up with a loud gasp startles them both, making Mickey whip around to see Ian sitting straight up in bed, his lungs working overtime trying get oxygen into his system. It’s different than the disconcerted way he woke up last night when Mickey found him asleep with Mikayla. This is full blown panic, complete with wide eyes and pounding heart. “Yo, Ian,” Mickey tries.

Ian turns his head towards Mickey’s voice but doesn’t look any more settled than before. He scrambles to get a grip on the sheets, sputtering through more attempts at breathing.

“Hey, Ian!” Mickey yells louder, bridging the space between them and ducking so that no matter where Ian looks, he’ll get a glimpse of him and Mikayla. “Hey,” he tries again. “It’s okay,” Mickey comforts even though he’s not completely sure what is wreaking havoc on Ian’s mind. “What’s going on with you?” He puts a hand on Ian’s bare chest, feeling the thumping organ underneath.

“Mick?” Ian breathes, swallows and reaches up a hand to blanket it over the one Mickey’s holding against him.

“Yeah.” Licking his lips, he slides his hand away and cups the side of Ian’s face.

Ian’s eyes are wide, glassy almost until he takes the time to actually _see_ Mickey and Mikayla. “Fuck…I…you…” His tongue gets clumsy with the words and he swallows again. Before trying to resume speaking, he scans the room like a frightened animal.

“Ohh, shit,” Mickey mumbles under his breath. The look on Ian’s face isn’t sitting well with him. He twists so he can put Mikayla safely in her bassinet. “Ian, look at me.” The fact that Ian listens immediately quells some of the worry and relief washes over him. “Shit, Ian. Way to scare that shit out of me and Kayla.”

At the mention of Kayla, Ian cranes his neck to sneak a peek at her. Some of the tension in his body dissipates and he returns his focus to Mickey. “I…I had a…I dunno, a nightmare or something. But it was so real and…you and Mikayla were…were…” He doesn’t finish the sentence but the look on his face, the pale aftermath or fear, says it all. Ian’s only looked that way when the idea of death is involved. “You were…”

“Yeah, well, we’re not,” Mickey interjects, cutting him off before he can actually say the words. “We’re right here. We’re good. I mean, aside from Kayla having the shit scared out of her before she drifted off to sleep.”

Ian doesn’t react to Mickey’s attempt to lighten the mood. Instead, he gets to his feet and lifts Mikayla from the bassinet. What he finds does actually manage to tug his lips up just enough but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Mick,” he says with a questioning tone as he eyes her mess of a diaper.

“Hey, it might not look pretty but it’s doing a perfectly fine job.” Mickey lets Ian cradle her in his arms, getting up and filling a glass with water from the tap, snagging Ian’s pill case on the way back. “You okay?” Mickey asks he sets the water down on the night table.

“I don’t know.” Ian ducks his head so that he can inhale Mikayla, his exhale coming slowly as he settles down. “Maybe. But…I don’t think so…I dunno.” He buries his nose in Mikayla again and lingers there. When he pulls away, he manages to pop open his pill case with a flick of his thumb and downs the pills in one huge gulp of water. “I don’t really feel like getting out of bed but…it’s like…I’m fucking exhausted. And I was okay as long as I kept going but…it feels like I hit a wall. And I don’t know if it’s me being a new dad. Or me having no idea what I’m doing. Or if it’s my bi-polar. Maybe a mix of everything. And then that nightmare? It felt so real…like _really_ real.” Ian shakes his head, combing the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “I…I think I should bump up my appointment with Dr. Pollack.”

Mickey reminds himself that self-advocacy is good while he nods a little too quickly. Before he actually realizes what he’s doing, he reaches out and pulls Ian towards, mindful of Kayla, wrapping his arm around him as he presses a kiss to his temple. Ian doesn’t exactly go limp in his hold but he doesn’t move much. “Yeah…that’s…that’s probably a good idea,” Mickey mouths against Ian’s skin.

***

Ian sits in Dr. Pollack’s office looking anywhere but at the woman. He’s not sure why but he doesn’t feel like looking her in the eye.

He’s distracted, but not because of the reasons that brought him here. Mostly, it’s because he hasn’t been away from Mickey and Mikayla for this long before and he knows it’s only going to get worse. He knows he has to get his ass back to Robert’s house and finish the job he’s been contracted to do. Mickey’s mostly finished his end of the bargain but in the last week Ian’s been too focused on watching Mickey work that he hasn’t gotten too much complete. They need money and if they want to get it, Ian’s going to have to haul ass and spend hours out of the upcoming days away from his new family.

It’s terrifying in a way he hadn’t expected.

Dr. Pollack is looking at him, head cocked a little like she’s trying to pick up on a clue that will let her in on whatever is causing a traffic jam in Ian’s head. “Ian?”

Looking up, Ian finally catches her eyes and it’s like he can’t look away. He’s here for a reason, _he wanted to come_ , but a lot of the things have stayed tucked up in his thoughts and he’s afraid voicing them will make Dr. Pollack agree with them, that she’ll think he’s too messed up right now to be any good to Mikayla. Taking a sharp breath, Ian lets words tumble out of her mouth. “I need to be okay enough to take care of her.”

“Okay,” Dr. Pollack draws out. “How about we start from the beginning? Who do you have to take care of? Your mother? Your –”

“My daughter,” Ian responds quickly.

“Ah-ha.” Nodding, the doctor recrosses her legs and gives a smile. “It’s been a few weeks since we last spoke. Can you tell me about her?”

That makes Ian’s face light up. He’s gotten good at talking about Mikayla. Actually, he’s not sure how “good” he’s gotten; more accurately, he’s able to talk about her for long rambling stretches. He doesn’t know how much sense he makes but most of his siblings seem to find it endearing when he’s spoken to them about Mikayla. Happiness bubbles up through his prior avoidance and makes him smile. “Her name is Mikayla. She’s four days old. And…and she’s perfect.”

Dr. Pollack nods but lets the pause in conversation continue to check if Ian still has more on his tongue. The silence is all too tempting and so Ian fills it with a proud declaration. “Mick and I, we’re keeping her.”

“You are?” Dr. Pollack says, but it’s more of a statement than a question, almost rhetorical because she heard the man loud and clear.

“Yeah. She’s ours. We…” Ian pauses and licks his lip. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get across to his therapist the pull Mickey and he had when they first laid eyes on Mikayla. There are words in his head but somehow he can’t find the right mash up to express that Mikayla is _family_. Their family. The fear he’d been drowning in when he first arrived is still there but he can use adoration for Mikayla and Mickey to wade through it for the time being. “She’s got red hair. Kinda like me. It makes people think she looks just like me but…she’s all Mickey. She’s got this round face and these shockingly blue eyes. And…Mickey says she looks like his sister – Mandy – but I think she looks like him. And…Mickey delivered her. Right into his hands. And the first damn thing he says when he sees her is, ‘she’s got red hair.’” Ian laughs at the memory. He’s aware that he’s jumbling things together but he can’t seem to figure out where to start. “She’s tiny…smaller than I can remember my siblings being. But I was younger and I didn’t know. I think…I understand how fragile things are now. She’s…she’s small and…” Ian cuts himself off and furrows his brow. He’s tapped into something and now that he’s remembering Mikayla’s birth again, emotions hit him hard. “And Mickey was amazing. He just _did it_. She was born in the middle of the night and Mickey was a fucking trooper. He kicked labor’s ass and powered through contractions.” Stopping to take a breath, Ian feels his heart skip too many beats. He breathes again and scratches at the knee of his jeans. “I watched her, you know? Being born and all. I watched him push her out and it made me so damn proud of him. And then I watched him catch her and pull her up to his chest. And I figured, if he can do that, then we’re strong enough to raise her. I don’t know if that makes sense. I…I hope it does. Because I want to be good enough for her. I wanna be her dad.” He chokes on something that sounds a little like a sob and darts his eyes to the other side of the room; he’s split down the middle and too exposed to be looked at directly. It’s hard for him to remember Mikayla’s birth and not feel pulled in forty different directions. He can’t believe what he watched his boyfriend do what he did. How Mikayla wasn’t in the world and then she was, squalling on Mickey’s chest. And Ian didn’t do that. Mickey did. Ian doesn’t know if he could have been that strong. Fishing out his phone, he finds the first picture he snapped of Mikayla and turns it towards Dr. Pollack. “She’s really fucking beautiful and…” He shoves the phone at the doctor because his hand is shaking a bit too much for his own liking. “That’s when she was a few minutes old. It’s the first time Mickey got to hold her.” Leaning forward, he swipes his finger over the screen to move to the next picture. There are probably 200 photos of his daughter now residing on his phone and he can tell Dr. Pollack a story about each one of them but he’s not paying her for that. “You can look at the rest. See? She’s perfect. And I’m too messed up to raise her…I don’t wanna fuck this up. I don’t wanna be _too messed up_. I wanna be good at this. I wanna be enough for her and Mickey.” Ian loses his grip on normal breathing then and he falls forward, his elbows propped on his knees so he can rest his head in his hands.

“Woah, Ian.” Dr. Pollack stands, moving to pick up the tissue box and bringing it with her as she sits beside Ian. “Ian?” She waits until his attention is back on her and places the phone in his hands. “You’re right. She’s beautiful. But you’re wrong, she looks a lot like you. She looks like Mickey too. And you both look really,” she pauses for the right word, “good with her. You look like good dads.”

“Yeah right,” Ian says, snatching a tissue and pressing it roughly to his eyes.

“Ian,” Dr. Pollack says softly, more for redirection than sympathy. “Can we start from the beginning again because what you just told me was _a lot_.”

Ian laughs, a quick scoff from the back of his throat. “I’m trying, you know? I’m trying to hold it all together for Mickey and Mikayla, trying to be good for them.” Ian scratches at the back of his head and sighs. “I didn’t feel like getting out of bed this morning. I’m exhausted. I’m worried that maybe I’m heading towards another depressive episode. I…”

“Hold on.” Dr. Pollack puts up a palm. “I’m sorry, but let me stop you there. You have a newborn, of course you’re exhausted. As your therapist, one who has been seeing you for a few years, I can say with some confidence that the things you’ve been telling me are completely normal. You’re a new dad. You and Mickey have entered a new stage in your lives, and while you weren’t prepared for it, it looks to me that you are embracing it. It’s hard, I’m not saying it isn’t. But the feelings you’re having, while worth discussing with me, have nothing to do with you bi-polar disorder.” She makes a gesture towards Ian’s phone. “They have to do with that beautiful girl you just introduced me to. Having a baby isn’t just a physical strain. We already established in our last meetings that you loved that baby before she was born. _Of course_ you are feeling stretched thin. But it’s _normal_ , Ian.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it is.” Dr. Pollack smiles. “But I applaud you for coming in. And if you can manage to tear yourself away from Mikayla in the next few weeks, I think we should meet bi-weekly instead of monthly until you feel like you’ve got your feet under you. I also think you should talk to Mickey about this.”

Ian shakes his head. “No…I…I want to talk to him about it, but he’s done so much.”

“What has he done? Tell me.”

Ian’s suddenly furious that and he can’t stop himself from yelling. “He had a fucking baby!”

Dr. Pollack doesn’t flinch. “I’m not contesting that. That’s not what I mean. I just wanted to hear from you. I wanted to hear what you think he’s done.”

“He’s done a lot. He kept Mikayla safe and he got her here. He was so damn strong. My heart almost burst from how proud I was. From how much more it made me love him.”

Nodding, the doctor leans a little closer towards Ian. “And what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You already told me you watched her being born. So you stood there?”

Ian licks his lips. “No, I…Umm, I kinda crawled in the bed behind Mickey when he was pushing. Before that, actually.”

“And you did nothing?”

“Shit, he’d kill me for talking about this.” Ian laughs at that. Mickey’s gotten worlds better with showing affection in public but showing affection because he needed strengths still makes Mickey’s cheeks flush. “I held his hand. I told him he was doing good and that everything was going to be alright. And when he had to push I helped him keep his legs open.” Ian gets caught in the story. “And when she was born, I let Mickey hold her for a while, even though I was dying to get my hands on her. We slept for a bit, but when I woke up, I let Mickey sleep. I got to change her and give Mikayla her first bottle. I’ve been trying to do a lot of that stuff, you know? Changing her diaper and stuff. I just want Mickey to relax.”

“You staying up with her?”

“Usually,” Ian says.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing. _That_ sounds like an attentive partner who is trying to shoulder everything. Sure, Mickey might have done some of the heavy lifting for a while, but it’s no wonder you’re exhausted.”

Ian shakes his head for what feels like the hundredth time in this session. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You were there for Mickey when he needed you, and not just during her birth. You and I have had a few sessions talking about how the two of you were both there for each other during the pregnancy.” She pauses in thought for a moment. “I’ve had a lot of patients who have put much less thought into having a baby. You and Mickey may not have planned her, but you sure committed yourselves to trying to be good parents to her.” She sighs the first truly sad sigh of the whole session. “You’ve told me about your parents and Mickey’s father. And I have to ask…are you afraid of being like them?”

The question cracks Ian’s skull wide, a levee breaking and suddenly something that should have been so easy to realize starts coming into view. “Shit.” His memories rolls backwards, going from his most recent to the oldest ones he can still recall. It’s all there. All the times he was left alone and all the times he had to grow up years before he should have. He remembers the times he stupidly got his hopes up and all the broken promises that always came as a result. He doesn’t want to subject his kid to the type of difficulties being Monica and Frank saddled him with. He doesn’t want his bi-polar to leave Mikayla feeling like there is something wrong with her or that he doesn’t love her. “Shit,” he repeats, but this time the word is garbled as a tear runs down his cheek.

Dr. Pollack stays silent, letting Ian have this moment to process what he’s been fearing for so long. When he looks up, his eyes a red and rimmed with tears. “I just don’t want people to think I’m a fool for trying to do this parenting thing. I don’t want to be my father. Or my mother. I can’t…” The words break off into a sob. “I can’t do that. I won’t. And I won’t crap out on Mickey. I can’t leave him to deal with Mikayla _and_ my ass when I can’t get out of bed.” He slides his thumb and forefinger across his brow bone.

“Ian, you’re not a fool. You’re not,” she says assuredly. “You have to remember, you are not your parents. The fact that you’re here can attest to that. And you’re not going to ‘crap out’ on anyone as long as you keep things in check.” She jots something down in the small pad she’s brought along with her. “But you are going to run out of steam if you try to do this all by yourself. So, let Mickey in a bit. We’ve talked about that in the past. I know you’ve gotten better at it, but the two of you need to stop holding things in. It’s never worked well when you and Mickey do that. What does work well, however, is when you are in things together. I’ve seen evidence of what that does for you and your relationship.” She gives her patient a smile and firm nod.

Together.

That word means so much. And though it seems silly, hearing it from Dr. Pollack’s mouth makes him feel better. He’s not and idiot. He’s just human.

He’s in this, together with Mickey. They’re in it.

It’s fucking terrifying but if they’re together he can let it be other things as well.

He can let himself smile and believe that he isn’t any different than any other new dad. Only, other people don’t have Mickey. Or Mikayla.

He’s got both and while that doesn’t mean he’s not still scared, it does mean he’s fucking lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I might have missed some editing things. I will read through it again. But I wanted to post this on father's day since it deals with them being fathers.  
> And I am sorry for the delay. My life has been insane! Let me know what you think! I feel so blessed to receive all your comments. *blush*


	21. Reformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mickey might seem a little OOC but...really...in the sense that this is mpreg and he just had a baby, he's really not. I was kind of a weirdo afterwards. So...I hope you understand where I am coming from with his and Ian's personalities and issues expressed.  
> Also - This isn't really a warning but there is some talk of postpartum depression and Mickey being a clingy little grump.  
> And Ian's siblings and Mandy are in this chapter. I think they needed to be included but I didn't want to dwell on it too much because, at the heart, this story is about Mickey, Ian and Mikayla.

It’s weird waiting for something, knowing the storm is going to hit but not being entirely clear how it will hit or when. That’s a little like what it feels to be waiting for the Gallagher clan to descend on Ian and Mickey’s modest apartment. True to their words, they had listened to Ian about waiting a week before coming to visit Mikayla. But now that the stipulated time was upon them, there was no stopping them coming to meet their niece. Although Ian would have thought it easier for his family to come in small drips and drabs, he supposes them all coming at once makes sense in terms of travel arrangement. At his core, he’s excited to see them, excited to share his awesome daughter with them. His only hesitance comes from the fact that while Mikayla is an amazing baby, she’s running them ragged and getting used to life with a newborn is hitting both him and Mickey _hard_.

Mickey’s got Mikayla, the habit going way past the point where he needs to be warned about spoiling her. Since Mickey barely puts her down, she’s already in that territory. Ian made mental checkmarks of that fact in his head, but he hasn’t done anything about it. Coming to sit beside Mickey, Ian watches his boyfriend feed their child. The man’s gotten exceedingly good at figuring Mikayla out; Mickey knows exactly the perfect angle of the bottle that she seems to suckle best at. “Hey, princess,” Ian says, pressing a kiss to his daughters forehead and pulling back to smooth out the wisps of red hair. “You know, when Fiona gets here, she’s just going to snatch her up and, with the amount she’s chowing down on, Kayla is going to spit up all over her.”

Mickey scoffs, then lets a quick snort of laughter leave his mouth. “I’m sure she’s used to baby spit, considering there is a small army of Gallaghers. Besides, it’ll be funny.”

Yeah, Ian supposes it will be, but he’d much rather their daughter keep her meal in her belly, where it belongs, because formula doesn’t grow on trees and he doesn’t like that confused face Mikayla makes when she throws up. “You okay?”

“Mmm,” Mickey says with a nod, wiggling the bottle a bit to remind Mikayla that’s she’s supposed to be eating and not playing. The baby makes a hungry snuffle, nose scrunching once, before her lips start pulling at the nipple. “It’s just a little weird, you know? Last week we didn’t have this tiny person who I’m _really_ proud of. Like…I’m really proud to show her off. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to show something off, at least, not something like this. Not something that is here because of me. And it’s not something stupid either, not something people could dismiss.” Shaking his head, he makes an expression that Ian can read perfectly, like he’s been so close to opening up fully and has decided to retract fast enough to cause whiplash.

These hang up are getting better but they’re still there, edged with a mix of discomfort and embarrassment. But he understands what Mickey means. They’ve mostly had a series of fuck-ups in their lives, sprinkled with some good here and there. Some of that is their personalities' fault, a lot of it is their surroundings' fault, and getting used to a world where the good outweighs the bad has been a long process. They have a lot to be proud about now. They’re functioning in a healthy relationship, with steady paychecks, a roof over their head and food in their refrigerator. The fact that Ian’s actually making his idea of handcrafted wooden furniture work and Mickey’s got a growing business as a self-employed electrician is nothing to scoff at. Whether Mickey sees it or not, they’ve both got a lot to be proud of. But he gets it, he really does. Mikayla is something – someone – they had mixed feelings about for so long and it feels damn good to be proud of her and want to show her off. She’s a testament of what they’ve grown strong enough to do together. “Hell yeah we’re proud of her.” Ian smiles and shakes his head. “And I’ve told you, I’m proud of you too.”

“Yeah, you told me,” Mickey says, ducking his head away but the smile on his lips betrays him and Ian knows the comment hit his desired mark. “Shit, I’m really proud of her, but I’m just as proud of you for keeping your shit straight.” He faces Ian again, and makes a nodding gesture towards the younger man’s head.

“Yeah, I got all this,” Ian taps his temple, “under control.” He sits back, licking his lips and watching Mickey set the bottle aside so he can shift Mikayla to his other arm. It strikes him how sexy he finds Mickey when the man turns that fiercely dedicated demeanor towards their daughter. It sends a fresh wave of feeling lucky through his system and it all bubbles up into a soft smile. “Here, let me take her,” Ian says before sliding one of his arms under Mikayla’s feather light weight so he can prop her over his shoulder and thump her back.

It’s Mickey’s turn to sit back and watch, the corner of his lips tugging up on one side. “Kinda would have thought we’d be going back to Chicago to see one of your other sibling’s newborn before we had one of our own. At least Lip or something. Funny how that worked out.” He sucks his lips in quickly, stuck on the thought a while longer. Grabbing the empty bottle, Mickey makes his way to the sink but not before he steals a kiss from Ian, the movement so sudden that it leaves Ian blinking.

Ian’s smile is immediate. He keeps his rhythmic thumping on Mikayla’s back and the words float out of his mouth before he puts much thought to them. “Man, I love you.”

Turning from where he’s rinsing out the bottle, Mickey stares at him cynically.

“I just do. You know…me, you, _this_.” Ian punctuates each word by gesturing with his head.

“You’re fucking weird,” Mickey says while playfully flipping him the middle finger. He drops the bottle in the drying rack and comes back, eyes trained on Ian the entire time. “But I fucking love you too,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to the crown of Ian’s head. “And now you’ve got spit-up running down the back of your shirt.”

“Ugh,” Ian groans, slowly pulling his daughter away from his shoulder to see a tell-tale trail of spit-up in her wake. “Gross, Mik.” His words stop when he realizes it’s the first time he’s called his daughter by that particular shortening of her name. Suddenly it’s so appropriate and Ian’s heart swells to twice its size. “Oh, princess, you’re fricken adorable,” he breathes out against her temple although he’s well aware that Mickey’s the one who named her and the adorableness of the situation, that Mikayla and Mickey have similar names, has _nothing_ to do with the baby herself.

Shaking his head, eyes rolls up towards the ceiling, Mickey steals their daughter away from Ian and wipes at her mouth with a damp cloth. “Guess Fiona is safe then,” he jokes.

“I took one for the team,” Ian laughs as he pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it into the hamper. He goes in search of a new one, high-stepping over the clutter that has taken over their apartment. It’s obvious they need more room but for now they’ll make due with trying to pile things up as neatly as possible. Before he manages to get a shirt on, his ears pick up on the chatter of his family’s voices outside the front door, a crescendo of noise all leading up to a knock. He snags whatever shirts he can find, doing a sniff test to ensure they’re clean. Picking one, he barely gets his arms into it when Mickey opens the door.

There is a flurry of activity as his siblings pile in, filling the small space with every ounce of their energy. Ian thinks he hears Debbie and Fiona cooing, their voices going high pitched; the only probable cause can be the fact that they’ve laid eyes on Mikayla. He can't see too clearly since he's tangled up in his shirt, which he's ready to apologize for on instinct. Carl is actually the one who cuts him off, his eyes giving Ian’s shirtless state a once over and grumbling. “Oh, come on! You knew we were coming over. Don’t tell me you two were fucking,” Carl scoffs.

“Carl!” Fiona snaps, smacking him on the backside of the head.

“What!?” Carl asks in annoyed innocence, looking towards Ian for some explanation.

Tugging the shirt on fully, Ian shakes his head. “It’s called baby spit. Kinda gets on everything, and it’s definitely not sexy.” Ian isn’t going to touch the fact that sex between him and Mickey at the current moment is off the table. "And it’s good to see you too.” He pulls Carl into a rough hug, forcing his younger brother to tumble into the gesture for a moment. Ian is yanked out of the hug by Fiona when she wraps both of her arms around Ian and squeezes him in increasingly tight increments until she pulls away to do the whole thing all over again. “Fi,” Ian gasps.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been a while. And you’re a dad now…” Her words trail off as she shakes her head at her own disbelief. “That’s insane.”

“Yeah, I know…tell me about it.” Scratching at the back of his head, Ian gives an understanding smile. He rocks back on his heels but Fiona is trying to pull him towards her again, her hands on his face so that he’s forced to look at her. “Fi, come on,” Ian says, feeling like the unruly teen Fiona once mothered as he tries to push her off.

“But you’re okay? Right? Feeling okay?” She smooths Ian’s hair out so that it falls in a cleaner swoop over his forehead.

“Yeah. I’m good.” He pulls Fiona’s hand away from his face and squeezes it. “Really good.” They share a smile and Ian braces himself because he knows she’s going to throw herself into a hug again. When she does, he laughs, shaking his head. “Aye, ease up. Come on, don’t you wanna meet your niece?”

That gets Fiona’s attention and she pulls away, nodding her head. They both turn to see that Mickey’s been swarmed by the rest of the Gallaghers. Ian gives his boyfriend an apologetic smile and shrug of his shoulders, but it’s not completely necessary. Mickey looks like he has everything under control. No one has tried to pick the baby up for themselves, which is surprising to Ian, but it does allow the baby to become accustomed to the noise around her. Mikayla is giving everyone wide eyed surprised stares, worlds away from the sleepy state she'd been in moments ago.

“Alright. Alright,” Mickey scolds. “Don’t paw at her.” He furrows at Debbie who is practically petting Mikayla’s middle while making goo-goo noises at her and melting.

“I can’t help it. She’s so cute? Aren’t you?” Debbie’s voice sing-songs through the chatter of everyone else. “Yes you are! You’re just so precious.” Unfazed by Mickey’s grumpiness, she gives him a dopey grin. “Mickey, she’s so cute! Her eyes are so blue.” She smiles down at the baby again, running the knuckle of her forefinger over Mikayla's cheek and then stops suddenly. “Oh my god, is her hair red?” She looks for answers by turning to Mickey first and then Ian. “We couldn’t tell in the pictures. She looked like she was born bald. Oh my god, you have red hair!” She squeals. “You’re gonna look just like me!”

“No, the kid looks just like Ian,” Lip says, making Mickey snort in agreement. He takes a large step so he can pull Ian into a hug, slapping his hand over his back.

“Hey, Lip,” Ian says. It’s been a while since they’ve actually seen each other. Of all of his siblings, he and Lip can’t seem to sync up their schedules enough to actually make time for face to face meet-ups. “Man, it’s good to see you.”

“You too.” They pull apart, Lip gesturing towards Mickey with his thumb. “Who would have thought Mickey Milkovich would look so good with a kid in his arms?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mickey snaps.

“I dunno, kinda used to seeing you with a gun in your hands, not my niece.” Lip shakes his head, slapping Mickey on the back in a friendly gesture. “Relax, it’s a good change. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yeah, well nice to fucking see you too,” Mickey says, all bark and no bite. He comes back to earth enough to joke, “She’s a lot more work than a gun, but I kinda like her better.” Mickey gives Lip a nod in greeting and then turns towards Fiona. “Anyone wanna hold this princess? My arms are getting kinda tired.”

Fiona jumps to his side so quickly that she’s a blur, her arms reaching out to pull Mikayla into a sweet embrace. “Come here sweetness.” At first, she holds the baby so that she is cuddled against her chest but after savoring the moment, Fiona rearranges her so that she can see her face. “Oh my god…” Fiona smiles, her eyes curving just enough to mirror the sentiment. She looks from Mickey to Ian. “Oh my god,” she repeats, “look at you! Look at those sweet eyes. And this little nose. And…oh man. She’s perfect. Hi, sweetheart, I'm your aunt.” Fiona starts bouncing Mikayla gently, humming to her as she rocks her hips from left to right. “Those pictures don’t do her justice. She…” Fiona pauses in thought and looks at the baby’s parents. “She looks like both of you. I didn’t think she did…but she really does. She’s so tiny!” Seemingly overcome by the waves of adoration for her niece, Fiona pulls her up against her chest again and peppers her head with kisses. “Oh, sweet thing. You’re so perfect.” Her voice cracks, words becoming wet with the tears Fiona isn’t doing a good job of keeping in check. She is full on crying before anyone really understands what is happening. Making sure that Mikayla is safely cradled by one arm, Fiona pulls Mickey into a hug with her other arm. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbles, sounding broken.

“What?” Mickey blinks, stumbling back a pace or two at Fiona’s unexpected approach. The fact that he wraps an arm around both Fiona and his daughter is automatic. He gives Ian a perplexed expression but goes with the moment nonetheless.

“I’m sorry I told you having her was a bad idea. I was an idiot! Because she’s beautiful. Really. And she looks so _good_ , you know what I mean? And you two are doing such a good job, I can tell. And…” Fiona chokes on a sob, breath shuddering when she sucks in ragged gasps for air. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come ‘ere.” Mickey shakes his head slowly in understanding and hugs Fiona. “For what it’s worth, there was a second there when I thought it was a bad idea that I saddled this kid with me as a parent. So…” He drops the thought and starts a new one. “But we’re good, Fiona. Everything is _good_. And she’s here and you can make up for being an idiot.”

Fiona chokes, laughing on the tail end of a sob. “She smells so good.”

“Yeah. She does.” Mickey’s eyes catch Ian’s again, gesturing for help with the woman who seems intent on clinging to him until her missteps are forgiven. The look warms Ian’s heart and he’s aware of how much he loves seeing his family and Mickey like this in one tangled up moment. Ian comes to Mickey’s rescue, putting his arm around Fiona and ushering her towards their futon.

Everyone is talking at the same time then, trying to get the lowdown on how Mikayla is doing. There are questions sprinkled throughout the conversation about how Mickey’s feeling and how Ian’s business is, but mostly Mikayla steals the show. It’s loud and happy; even Liam seems to get excited about the baby when Ian props him against Debbie, making sure his younger sister helps Liam safely hold Mikayla for a few moments.

They order pizza, because Ian sure as hell isn’t cooking dinner for a gaggle of Gallagers, and they eat standing up with greasy fingers and smiles on their faces. It’s such a basic level of happiness that the time slips away from them and before any of them realize it, Liam is passed out on the futon and even Carl’s eyes are starting to do that elongated blink that comes before totally sleepiness.

Ian is glad his family gets the hint that their visit, while heartwarming, was exhausting for the new parents. Even though the company was appreciated, it’s almost too much for Ian and Mickey. Emotions were running high and Ian’s aware he’s walking the line towards burning out too closely. He appreciates their positivity and the gifts they brought along with them, but Ian and Mickey are partially relieved when they close the door behind their exiting guests and have some time to shut their brains off.

Mikayla is snuggled in her bassinet, freshly changed by Debbie and wearing hand-me-down pajamas from Jason. She’s sleeping with her arms over her head and Ian needs to spend a few seconds looking at her before he can walk away. “‘Night princess,” he whispers and runs his forefinger over the curve of her cheek even though he knows she’ll be up to eat in an hour or so.

Mickey is already flopped belly down on their bed, head buried in the pillow.

“Hey,” Ian says, scooching his way towards Mickey, laying on his side so he can press his body just an inch closer.

“Hey,” Mickey mumbles. “That went pretty well.”

“Yeah, it was good. I knew it would be.” Instead of utilizing his pillow, Ian snuggles his face into Mickey’s neck and inhales. There is a new smell to Mickey lately, and it’s all due to the fact that the older man lets Mikayla nuzzle up against his neck. Mickey smells like the same old Mickey, the mix of scents that travels though Ian’s blood like an electric current, but he also smells like soft, powdery things. Like Mikayla things. “How could they not love her?”

“Mmmhmm,” Mickey nods, twisting his head the slightest amount to allow Ian greater access to inhale him and kiss the stretch of neck he’s exposed. “Man, I missed sleeping on my stomach. This is so good. I’m fucking tired.” His words are drawn out, each syllable a little sloppy as his body loses the tension of the day.

Ian’s body follows suit, melting into the mattress and curling around Mickey. The day had gone well. He hadn’t expected Fiona to break down like that, but in a way, that unpredictability was expected. Even months ago, Ian knew Fiona would come around to the idea of him and Mickey having a baby. Sometimes it takes a little bit longer for his family to get things straight even though their hearts are generally in the right place.

His eyes flutter closed, breathing evening out and coming to match the pace of Mickey’s. He doesn’t remember starting to fall asleep but he knows that before he gets there, an insistent cry breaks through to serene moment and makes his eyes struggle to blink open. Mikayla’s wail takes on qualities of watery vibrations, like it’s caught on repeat and not stopping anytime soon. “Ugh,” he moans, hands coming to brace his upper body so he can push himself up. A hand at the small of his back stops him.

“I got it,” Mickey’s says, voice sounding sluggish from being on the cusp of sleep himself. He slides out of bed more than actually stepping out, pausing to kiss to the area just behind Ian’s ear.

Ian doesn’t fight. Instead, he falls back to the bed again, pulling the pillow to him and sighing. He’ll get Kayla next time and let Mickey sleep. He knows he loves Mickey, but right now he loves him just a little bit more than five minutes ago.

***

“We’ve got a problem,” Mickey says in complete seriousness. He hadn’t meant to brooch the subject like that, but things have been building in his head and he needs to get them all out. He’s been doing a lot of thinking, even picked Katie’s brain about it a bit. And if anyone understands when things are all jumbled in one’s head, it’s Ian.

Ian drops his coffee mug to the table and turns his head towards Mickey. “We do?” he asks, voice going from calm to on edge in seconds flat.

“Yeah.” Mickey twists his head, thinking that he probably should have waited to have this conversation when Ian wasn’t halfway across the apartment with a mouthful of cereal. “Sorry, it can wait. It’s nothing really.”

“Bullshit,” Ian scoffs, abandoning his breakfast and coming to sit on the arm of the futon.

Mickey is resting his back against the other armrest, his legs thrown out across the span of the furniture so that his in a semi-reclined positon. Mikayla is curled up on Mickey’s stomach, her tiny body snuggled up so that their bellies are touching and the chubbiness of her left cheek is pressed against her father. Her bow lips are parted adorably, bracketed by the tight fists of her hands. Looking down at her, it’s hard for Mickey to believe that she had fit inside him. It’s even more unbelievable that she’d still be inside of him had he carried her to term. Outside of the womb, she is all personality and stretching limbs. She’s too big to be contained by anything other than his heart. Mickey catches himself and he puts his hands over his face, exhaling loudly into his palms. These are exactly the thoughts that make his head spin.

“Hey, you’re scaring me,” Ian says, nudging the bottom of Mickey’s foot with his knee. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing…I mean, I think it’s nothing.” Mickey forces himself to remove his hands and look at Ian. What he finds is enough to reinforce the fact that he knows they are going to be fine, that they’re just in some uncharted territory at the moment. It’s nowhere near as bad as some of the other shit they dealt with, but it’s still unnerving. He takes a deep breath, broaching the conversation all wrong. “You know I’m not going to leave you. Or her – ”

“Was that a concern I was supposed to have?” Ian physically reacts to the words taking him aback, pulling his spine straight and leaning away from Mickey.

“Shit, no. I’m fucking this up.” Mickey shakes his head, holding out a palm to Ian because he wishes he could rewind and start all over again. Leaving Ian was _never_ an option, he just doesn’t want Ian to think that what the point of their serious discussion. Now he’s gone and made it so that is the only thing Ian can focus on. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

Ian’s defenses are up, eyebrows quirked. “Where the hell is this conversation going?”

“Come on, firecrotch, you know I’m shitty at this.” Mickey almost hits himself in the head. He’s bringing out the nicknames like they have a chance of defusing the situation and he is reminded of why he keeps his mouth shut half of the time. “Okay, just let me talk and get it all out and then, if it doesn’t make sense, I’ll try to say it better and shit.” Mickey lays his palm across Mikayla’s back and keeps her steady while his breathing hastens. “I was trying to say that this isn’t about you. You’ve been…” Mickey pauses because he never took the time to put this thought into words. “You’ve been fucking amazing. I mean it. And not just with Kayla. You’ve been good with staying on top of work, and taking care of yourself. Hell, you took care of me when I was so sore I didn’t want to move. So it isn’t you.” He takes a break to strategize his next sentences. “But I’ve been feeling…off. I can’t explain it. I don’t feel like me, except I feel like me. Like a new me.” Growling, he shakes his head. “This makes no sense.”

“No. It kinda does. Keep going,” Ian urges, his demeanor vulnerable again as he reaches out and curls his hand around Mickey’s calf.

“I dunno, I just felt weird. And I talked to Katie about it.” Mickey blows through the surprised eyebrow raise Ian gives him. “She said it’s normal and stuff, but…I did some research and I talked to her about it. Katie said my hormone levels are a shit show right now. She doesn’t think I’ve got that postpartum depression thing, but I’m suffering from something. I think she’s right…but…it's hard to explain. I just like having Mikayla around me all the time. Like this,” he gestures towards where the baby is laying. “It just feels safer. And…that’s what I meant. I feel like me, because I always get a little over protective about the things I care about, but now this new me wants to sit inside and go all papa bear on anyone who tries to mess with her.”

Ian laughs softly at that, giving a comforting squeeze to Mickey’s calf and his eyes filling with remembrance. “The nurse wasn’t messing with her, Mick. She was doing a hemoglobin screening and had to take blood.”

“Yeah, well, Mikayla screamed bloody murder and she never does that.” He curls his lip at Ian for a split second and then realizes how ridiculous he’s being. “See, that’s what I mean.” Mickey knows what Ian’s saying…they were both there at Mikayla’s first pediatric appointment. Katie had given them the name of a doctor she thought Ian would like and Mickey would tolerate. Of course, Katie was right; Mickey kinda liked the guy. The doctor was no fuss and all business, but his personality was enough that he could handle a little light sarcasm and bantering. The fact that he thought Mickey and Ian were doing an exceptional job for first time parents didn’t hurt Mickey's opinion of him either. “It’s just weird, Ian. She was inside me and now she’s not. And that’s good. Really good. But I’m not doing so well at dealing with that.” Mickey looks up and sees the way Ian reacts to the words. The redhead goes all puppy dog eyed. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’.” Ian shifts closer, moving so that he’s on the futon and he has to lift Mickey’s legs to lay them across his lap. “It’s just…really cute.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey scoffs from the back of his throat.

“It is. And she’s fucking lucky to have you as a dad.” He rubs his hand up and down Mickey’s shin as a sign of comfort. “I’m sorry, Mick. I didn’t know you were feeling like that. But I’m glad you told me. And…It’s normal right? I mean, at least from Katie’s perspective?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I feel fucked up or anything. It’s more like…like when I came out and had to get used to everyone knowing I was gay. I think it’s more like…I have to get used to it. You know?” Mickey licks his lips because parenting Mikayla is nothing like that scenario and everything like that scenario at the same times. He’s out of his comfort zone and doing something he thinks maybe he always wanted but didn’t know he could have.

“We’ve got a lot of time for that.” Ian nods. “You were right before…none of us are going anywhere.”

“I’ll learn to share,” Mickey offers with a shrug.

“You better. You know you’re sister isn’t going to be okay with coming all the way for a visit and only being allowed to look at her.”

Ian’s words are spot on. It’s not that Mickey doesn’t _want_ people to spend time with their daughter, because he really fucking does, it’s just that he feels whole when he’s got a hold on her. Parenting Mikayla with Ian is a brand new world for him and it’s terrifying. “I’m sorry most of that came out wrong. I…I love you and it’s hard sometimes to get things straight.” Licking his lips, Mickey makes eye contact with Ian and anchors himself there.

“Nah, it made a lot of sense. I know it’s hard to put tangled up feelings into words.” Ian lets one of his hands settle on their daughter’s back, fingers playing with Mickey’s. “I kinda miss the belly too.”

“Shut up. No you fucking don’t,” Mickey snorts.

“No, I kinda do. It was cute.” Ian traces the nape of Mikayla’s neck. “But she’s cuter, so…it’s a win there.”

They sit in silence, lacing their fingers together and watching the faces Mikayla makes in her sleep. Mickey looks at Ian and things in his heart feel like they’re settling. “Sorry if I scared you or something.”

“You only did in the beginning. But I had a hunch something was up even before you said anything. It makes a lot more sense now.”

Feeling like he at least did something right in the conversation, Mickey smirks. “Hey, for the record, you were pretty jumpy when Mikayla started screaming at her doctor appointment too.”

“Yeah, well, she made my princess bleed,” Ian defends, unable to hide the fact that his words betray him as a complete hypocrite. “See, Mick, you’re really not alone here.”

That’s all Mickey needed to hear, because he really wasn’t alone and hadn’t been for a long time. And he’d never get sick of being reminded of that fact.

***

“Oh my god, how did you make something so cute?!” Mandy demands of her brother as she holds Mikayla so that the baby is stretched out across her lap in all her precious glory.

Mickey’s immediate responds is to hit Mandy gently in the back of the head. “That sound a lot like an insult.”

“Well it kind of is. How on earth did your ugly ass make this adorable little girl? I know Ian helped but still – ” When Mickey hits her again, she ducks down in surrender and turns an apologetic face to him. “Relax, I’m fucking kidding. She looks just like you.” Mandy smiles down at the baby.

“Mick thinks she look like you,” Ian supplies.

Mandy seems to light up at the thought and she looks to her brother. “Yeah?”

“Kinda,” Mickey says. He sits back and watches Mandy hold Mikayla. It's a sight he never thought he'd see because it's too white bread and  _normal_. But seeing it now, he's glad he's gotten to this point because Mandy is clearly head over heels in love with the newborn. “You looked like her when you were a baby – aside from the red hair.”

“Well, I’ll take all the credit,” Mandy laughs, pulling the baby up and kissing her on the cheek. “You’re so fucking cute!” There is a moment where she smothers the baby’s cheeks with kisses, the gesture so unlike Mandy but happening regardless. Her voice turns softer than Mickey ever remembers it sounding as she speaks to the little girl. “I can’t believe you’re here. That I’m you’re aunt. The last time I saw you, you were a wiggly little thing on a screen.” She pause and laughs when Mikayla turns her head away from all the kissing. “Still wiggly.”

“Sometimes,” Ian says. “Sorry she doesn’t look like me. I know you were hoping for that.”

“She looks enough like you,” Mandy says. “I mean, no one is going to look at this kid and have a question about who her parents are. That’s for sure!”

The fact makes warmth swirl in Mickey’s heart. He sometimes thinks that he’s projecting his own thoughts when he looks at Mikayla. Having other people reaffirm that the baby does in fact look like a pretty good mix of him and Ian makes his heart skip a beat. It’s funny to see Mandy with the baby because she immediately succumbs to Mikayla’s ability to make people melt and fawn over her. Even though she’s barely over a week old, Mikayla has somehow honed her ability to control everyone in her life. It makes Mickey worry about how powerful she’ll be as a teenager. “Thanks for coming, Mands.”

“Of course! Seriously, I was ready to kill you when I found out that this little girl was on the planet for almost 12 hours before I was told about it.” Mandy’s smile stays in place and she falls back against the chair, holding Mikayla to her chest. “So what are you guys going to do?” She pauses and looks around the room. “You’re pretty cramped up in here.”

Mickey and Ian share a glance. There had been talk about needing more room but nothing serious. All they knew was that they were more than capable to drag out living in this studio while Mikayla was a pipsqueak. “Umm, we’re good for now, I think.” Scratching at the back of his head, Mickey looks towards Ian. “Right?”

“Yeah…we’re gonna stay here a bit longer. I’m hoping we can make some changes but right now I’ve got a few things up in the air with my business and I don’t want to shake things up too much by moving.” Ian shrugs in hopes that his explanation was good enough for Mandy.

“‘Kay,” she chimes without digging deeper. “Mick, you’re not working yet, right?”

“Fuck no.” Mickey wrinkles his nose in distaste. “I worked my ass off before she was born. I’m good being on hiatus for a little bit. Ian’s been popping over to his job every now and then, but I think we went overboard before she was born, trying to make sure we had enough money to go off the grid.” A thought pops in Mickey’s head and he tenses. “Shit, Ian…we have to finish the word at Robert’s house. We told him we would have it done before Mikayla was born and I had to fuck that up and go into labor early.”

Ian rubs at his jaw. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that. It shouldn’t be too bad. You were mostly done. I was the slacker because I was too busy hovering over your ass.” He pauses to laugh. “I think I could get my end done. But you might have to come in for a day or two. Honestly, I don’t think Robert is the type who is going to mind, but it’s best to call him and let him know. I can do it.”

“Sure. That’s probably a good idea.” The tension in Mickey peters out at Ian’s solution. “I don’t even feel like thinking about work right now.”

Mandy chimes in, voice questioning and slow like she already know the answer. “Have you two even been out of the house since Mikayla was born?”

“Yeah.” Mickey snorts.

“Like… _out_ out or you were outside,” Mandy specifies.

“Out. We took Mikayla to the pediatrician. We’ve gone food shopping. And I’ve been to my workshop a few times.” Ian glances at Mickey to check if he’s missing anything.

“That’s not _out_.” The woman rolls her eyes and gives each man a pointed look. “You need to get out, even if it is just for fifteen minutes or something.”

“We’ve been _out_ for longer than fifteen minutes,” Mickey insists, certain his sister has lost her mind and isn’t listening to them.

“I mean without her,” Mandy says, rubbing a hand over the span of Mikayla’s back.

“Oh,” both men say dumbly at the same time. That is a whole other ballgame. Mickey’s heart clenches up because he doesn’t feel like he needs to go anywhere without Mikayla. Sucking at his teeth, Mickey tries to figure layout all of the elements that would be involved in he and Ian going out of the house without Mikayla but his brain gets stuck on the most fundamental one – they would have to leave Mikayla somewhere without them. “Nah, we’re good,” Mickey says to brush off the suggestion.

“Oh, come on Mick. Go out and get McDonalds or something. Isn’t there one right down the street? Even if you ate there – which I think you should – you wouldn’t be gone for more than 20 minutes. Seriously, I’ll watch her.” Mandy bounces the baby gently, turning so that Mikayla’s face is pointed towards her fathers. “Go ahead, Kayla. Tell your daddies that you need some girl time.”

Mickey snorts. Ian laughs hesitantly. They both look from Mandy to each other and back again.

“Come on,” Mandy pleads. “I won’t kill her. It’s just 20 minutes. How hard can that be? She just ate. Ian just changed her. She’s not going to do more than hang out with her aunt. I promise, I’ll keep an eye out for underage drinking and drug use.”

“Oh, yeah, because you’re the poster child for that,” Mickey teases, words edging on an actual fear of having to worry about those things in regards to his 9 day old daughter. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, which is why he’s able to swallow it down and glare at his sister.

“It was a joke, Mick! Man…you really need to get out.” She stares them down like it’s not a suggestion anymore, it’s an order. “Go on. Get out. And bring me back something greasy to eat. I’m _starving_!”

“Maybe it’s a good idea,” Ian says, bumping elbows with Mickey. “Just for a few minutes. Get some fresh air?”

Somehow, Mickey isn’t quite sure, Mandy gets her way and Ian and Mickey find themselves outside of the apartment, the front door closed with Mikayla and Mandy settled safely on the other side. Mickey’s heart hitches and he keeps giving quick, sharp looks to the door as they start to move away. “Maybe we should – ”

“Nope,” Ian says, tugging at Mickey’s arm. “They’re fine. It’s just a short walk and then we’ll be back. She’s not even going to notice that we’re gone.”

For Mickey, those are the exact wrong words to say. Mikayla _knows_ him and Ian, she really does. She reacts to them. The fact that she might not even notice her parents’ absence tightens a vice on his heart. “No, I think…” His breathing gets snagged up and comes out wrong.

“Mick,” Ian says firmly, spinning Mickey so they are eye to eye. “Breathe. It’s okay.” He takes a long so breath and exhales slowly.

For as stupid as it makes him feel, Mickey repeats the action. They stay like that for several breaths before Mickey licks his lips, averts his eyes, and sighs. “Sorry. I’m being a pussy.”

“Nah, what you’re doing is over thinking it.” Coasting his hand up Mickey’s back, he lets his palm curve to the base of Mickey’s skull. “Come on.”

“No, wait,” Mickey says, noticing that Ian’s thinking this is another stalling tactic and is about to reassure him again. “You’re right, we need to go out. But I also need this.” Stepping forward, he slides one leg between Ian’s and leans close enough to slot their lips together. Ian’s reaction to the kiss is immediate, melting into it and humming in appreciation for the gesture. Mickey’s brain buzzes because, while they’ve shared enough displays of affection over the last week, this feels different and maybe that’s because they’re alone. Mickey’s blood courses a little faster and he tilts his chin upward, opening his mouth enough for Ian to deepen the kiss. They linger in the moment, hands holding onto each other like they’ll stop breathing if they break contact. Unfortunately, they eventually have to pull back, Mickey clearing his throat and looking away from Ian’s eyes because he’s positively certain Ian’s going to be wearing the love struck puppy dog expression he’s been so keen to fall into lately. Mickey’s not strong enough to handle that, his heart would just give out on him. Clearing his throat again, his voice is a whisper when he says, “Yeah. Needed that.”

The rest of their outing is smoother after that. He’s not going to admit it to her, but Mandy’s suggestion had been totally on target. They needed this and while Mickey realizes he misses his daughter like crazy, he’s starting to realize that he misses being with Ian too. It’s not like Mikayla is out of their thoughts, Mickey even has to turn the tables and scold Ian when he pulls out his cell phone to text Mandy and make sure their daughter is still breathing.

They’re kind of ridiculously hopeless like that.

But it’s cathartic. They’re gone for only 30 minutes, returning to find a very happy baby being spoiled in Mandy’s arms. Mickey pats himself on the back over the whole situation, laughing when Ian’s the one who steals Mikayla away from Mandy and breathes her in several times before settling down.

It’s true that they have no idea what they’re doing, but he thinks they’re doing a decent job of figuring it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience. There are a few chapters left, all written in skeleton form (I need to beef them up) but I am not going to put a number on them yet because I keep fleshing them out and adding more details. There is actually a sequel planned if people are interested.
> 
> And thank you for your patience while I got some work, home, and other writing stuff done. XOXO  
> As always, I am so lucky to have readers and wonderful comments. It makes me so happy. *blushes*


	22. Fulfillment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There be some sexy times at the end!

Mickey and Ian have been eluding actual work like it’s the plague. Ian’s mostly putting in a few days’ work here and there, letting Jason man the shop like they originally planned, but Kayla arriving early made it hard for Ian to just drop everything in Jason’s lap all at once. The actual work isn’t the problem; Ian isn’t lazy and Jason is a quick learner. Mostly, he dreads work because then he’s away from his daughter and Mickey, and he’s been enjoying basking in the new baby bubble.

On the other hand, Mickey has been avoiding work because he’s figuring out how to be a fully functioning human adult again. Besides, someone needs to stay home and look over Mikayla. He’s man enough to take on the task of caring for her; it’s surprising even to him that he doesn’t see any shame in the decision. For a second, he thought his virility would take a blow because visions of stay at home parents who did nothing danced around his head. But when he finds himself in the place of actually doing it, keeping Mikayla alive sure didn’t feel like _nothing_. Besides, though it may be a month earlier than they’d scheduled, he had always planned to take a few weeks off from work. He and Ian had savings. They were fine.

What he can’t do, however, is go back on promises he made before Mikayla’s birth. He and Ian both promised Robert that they would have his house done before he and his wife were ready to move in and that deadline is approaching quickly. Had Mikayla actually waited till her due date, Mickey would probably have the job done by now. Their daughter, however, must get her distaste for playing by the rules from her fathers because now Mickey’s scratching his head trying to figure out if there is a chance in hell of him finishing the job in time with a newborn in tow.

There really isn’t.

Ian stayed true to his word and called Robert, explaining the entire situation. It seems like everyone has an understanding of the situation but that still leaves actual work to be done. And that work is going to start today.

At least that’s the plan.

After Mickey nearly had to kick him out the door, Ian finally hauled his ass to the workshop to get some things done there so he can meet Mickey at Robert’s house and finish his end of the job. That leaves Mickey to get himself and Mikayla ready. She’s coming with him since there is no one to watch her. Mickey’s going to be doing some pretty easy work so he doesn’t anticipate any issue with the plan. He figures she’ll probably stay snuggled up in her carrier and sleep through most of it. She is, as he’s learning, an easy baby. If she’s fed and dry, she’s usually happy. She prefers to be in Mickey’s or Ian’s arms but she gets over that if given some time.

“Alright, princess. You ready for your first day on the job?” Mickey lets her nuzzle under his chin for a moment so as to calm her after the traumatic event of Mickey changing her into a clean onesie. Her whining gets quieter as she roots around in the space she’s given, like she’s inhaling her father’s scent as much as he’s inhaling hers.

It’s Mikayla’s first big trip out of the apartment if Mickey doesn’t count her doctor’s appointments. She settles down quickly, fist curling around the collar of Mickey’s t-shirt and tugging it with spastic movements of her wrist. He hair is coming in a little more, and instead of red whips of hair that stick straight up, the strands are getting long enough to settle themselves if Mickey’s brushes them forward with his palm. He thinks the color is darker now, still red but not coppery. “Hey, were did all that hair come from?” He laughs to himself and pulls Mikayla away so he can look at her face. She makes the funniest expressions when Mickey talks to her and he laughs almost every time. He can’t help herself. This time, she looks surprised, blue eyes bright and wide and her bow lips pursed so that they look like an exaggerated attempt to kiss him. The expression changes almost immediately as her body starts learning what it can do. The smile Mikayla makes is reflexive, he’s read that, but the way her eyes find him is all Mikayla’s doing. “Yeah, you’re ready,” Mickey says, kissing her crown before placing her in the carrier. Mickey’s gotten better at that; so has Ian.  In the beginning, they’d both been too hesitant in their attempts to tug the straps over her tiny body. When they remembered that Mikayla is their kid, that she’s tougher than she looks, it got easier. Mickey’s gets Mikayla strapped in, earning himself only one whine of annoyance in the process.

The drive to Robert’s house goes smoothly. As assumed, Mikayla falls asleep to the thrum of the car’s engine, leaving her passed out by the time they arrive. He unhooks the carrier from the car seat base and goes around the back of his SUV to get his tools. Walking towards the front door, Mickey’s struck by the fact that it’s a bit weird to be toting his daughter in one arm while he has his tools in the other. The clash of both his worlds manages to highlight each of them.

Taking a glance at Mikayla’s sleeping face, he smirks at the way she’s turned her head to the side and snuggled herself into the plush lining of the carrier. Then, taking a deep breath, he rings the bell. The first time he’d been on these steps had been under drastically different circumstances; he’d been filled with defiance and defense tactics. Now, he’s grounding himself for a different type of encounter. He’s aware that he’s bringing his daughter to work with him despite the fact that Mickey’s made it a point to keep his life and job separate in the name of professionalism. But Kayla is a new part of his life, on a much higher rung than his job. He’s not ready to leave her with a complete stranger. So he waits for Robert with a thousand thoughts running around his head about how he’s going to pull off explaining his daughter’s presence but all that comes out of his mouth when Robert opens the door is, “I brought my kid.”

“I can see that,” Robert laughs, gaze lowering to the carrier and back to Mickey eyes. He keeps the ball in Mickey’s court and smiles approaching.

Mickey shakes his head and lets out a breath. He’s going about this all wrong and wonders when on earth he’ll figure out how to ease into things instead of bluntly shoving ahead. Probably never, he thinks and licks his lips. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Robert looks taken back by the question, leaning his head closer to Mickey in case he didn’t hear right and then shaking it back and forth. “No. Why? Do you think it’s a problem?”

“Oh, okay. Good.” Mickey breaths out a relieved sigh as he’s brought to his senses a little more. “Thanks. I’m sorry, really. I wouldn’t have brought her but Ian and I don’t have anyone to watch her yet. The jobs I have to finish up here are pretty black and white. I’m sure she’ll just sleep.”

Nodding, Robert steps into the house to allow Mickey entry. “Mickey, it’s fine. Really. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” Once he’s several steps in, Mickey sets the carrier down and starts depositing some of his tools on the floor beside her. “I think this kid’s got me all messed up. I didn’t mean to be so rude.” Extending a hand, Mickey does his best to offer Robert an apologetic smile. “Hi, how are you doing?”

Robert laughs for a solid three seconds before returning Mickey’s gesture and shaking his hand. “I can’t complain. Yourself? Seems like you’ve been busy.” He raises his eyebrows and nods towards the baby.

“Yeah. You could say that.” The younger man bites his lower lip and looks at his daughter. “Listen, I’m real sorry that I had to push back the day I said I’d be done. I know I promised you that I could get everything finished on time but _something_ decided to come early.”

“Does that _something_ have a name?” Robert inquires.

Mickey can’t help himself from letting his face light up at the question. “Yeah. Mikayla. But sometimes Ian and I call her Kayla.” He pauses and catches himself on a ramble just seconds too late. “She was born quite a few weeks early. On May tenth actually.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” Robert says, stepping closer to get a look at the sleeping child. “She’s beautiful,” he says with sincerity after he soaks in her presence for a while longer.

“Thanks,” Mickey beams, nodding because Robert is completely right. Although, she’s more than beautiful. She’s perfect. Clearing his throat, he gets back to business. “So, like I said, I’m real sorry for not sticking to the deadline. I don’t have a habit of doing that and it’s a real sore spot with me. I’d be happy to discount the remainder of my work. I’m mostly done, but Ian and I discussed it and we’re happy to refund some of your payment since we broke the contract.”

Robert scoffs, a loud exhale leaving his lips as he brushes Mickey’s offer away with one hand. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t dream of it. There is nothing wrong with the work you’ve done. Don’t sell yourself short. You do good work and you deserve to be paid for it, especially now that you’ve got Mikayla to worry about.” He gives Mickey a softer smile in understanding. “It’s not like you skipped out on work for a no good reason. Babies come when they want to come, you can’t help that. All the same, you seem the type who wouldn’t have let that stop you from getting the work done here if you could have managed.”

The thought of trying to finish the electrical work while in labor makes an immediate burst of laughter spill from Mickey’s lips. He appreciates Robert’s sentiment and confidence but there is no way in hell Mickey would have been able to do anything at that moment other than concentrating on delivering Mikayla. When he comes back to himself, he gives the older man an obliged smile. “Thanks. I mean, you’re right, Ian and I do have Mikayla to worry about. But we also have our professional integrity.”

“Well you have nothing to worry about there. I’m really impressed with the job you and your husband have done.”

The assumption shows up again, and Mickey lets it. He doesn’t really see the point in bothering to correct the man. All of the emotional things that Robert is implying are true, he’s just gotten confused about the fine print. “Thank you,” Mickey says, a grateful lilt to his words. “Ian’s supposed to come by a little later with the final pieces he’s worked on for you.”

“Sounds like a plan. But how about I let you get started before the little one wakes up, hmm?” He takes it upon himself to pick up Mikayla’s carrier, leaving Mickey to grabs his tools. Robert ushers him into the entertainment room where Mickey left a few loose ends. “Of course, the one room that I’ve been looking forward to relaxing in is the one that you haven’t finished.” The jab is kindhearted enough to ensure Mickey knows he doesn’t mind all that much. “At least I’ve had time to decompress in the bathroom. Great job you did on the dimmers in there.”

Mickey almost chokes at the compliment because his mind is filled with the memories of all the debaucherous times he and Ian took full advantage of that large tub. He manages to turn his face away from Robert to hide the way the memories have affected the look in Mickey’s eyes but he makes a noise of appreciative acknowledgement over the older man’s comment.

When they enter the room, Mickey sees the large sprawling couches that Robert has already furnished it with. There is a television lying in wait on a mostly empty entertainment center and Mickey knows that if he tried to turn it on, it would remain black. He also realizes that there is another person in the room. Derek looks to be slowly sinking into the plush cushion on the farthest end of the couch. “Oh, hey,” he says with a nod of his head.

“Hi,” Derek replies, eyes smiling along with his mouth as he turns towards the electrician. Mickey doesn’t blame him for the fact that he doesn’t get up; he looks too comfortable. “Don’t mind me. I’m just hanging out with my uncle for a while. I wanted to see how the house is coming along. How are you doing?”

“Good,” Mickey responds while walking around to where he knows he has wiring to work on at the further end of the couch. He places his tools down, intent on freeing his hands so he can retrieve his daughter from Robert. Turns out, he needn’t have bothered, since Robert is already placing her carrier safely in the seat of the couch’s corner wedge.

“Oh my god, the baby!” That gets Derek off his butt and he leans down to inspect Mikayla. “She’s so sweet.”

“Yeah. She is.” Mickey gives Derek a nod, watching him fawn over his daughter.

“And what’s your name?” Derek stupidly asks the sleeping baby in a singsong voice.

“Her name is Mikayla.” Mickey wishes Derek would have just asked Mickey flat out what the baby’s name is, instead of falling into that weird habit that people have of asking newborns questions. Although, Mickey’s done it himself several times, but that is _totally_ different. He snorts to himself and smiles. The fact that so many people seem to melt over babies, even ones they don’t know, never made much sense to Mickey. But Mikayla is a different story. He’s thoroughly smitten with his daughter, so he understands the effect she has on people. Clearing his throat, Mickey shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He’s not used to doing work with an audience; usually he’s left alone to get the job done. Derek, however, looks like he’s busy smiling at Mikayla and chatting with Robert, so Mickey comes up with a plan of action. Thankfully, he’s only left with easy jobs, since he’d gotten the ceiling fan wired before Mikayla was born. In hindsight, it seems like it would have been easier to do now, without the belly throwing off his balance. Today, he has ground work to do, switches and outlets to finish up. And if Robert wants the electricity to run through the actual entertainment center, he’s got to change up a few things there. It’s easy work and he gets most of it done without a hitch until he hears Mikayla start to make her little puppy whines, the ones that lead up to a full on wail.

“Shit.” Hands a little busy at the moment, Mickey tries to figure how to walk away from the project without mucking things up.

“I can get her,” Derek says, looking at Mickey as a way of asking for permission. “If that’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Hesitance clear in his words, Mickey is slow to get out, “uh, yeah, okay.” He doesn’t move from his spot, but his eyes are fixed on Derek as he unbuckles Mikayla from the carrier and gently pulls her into his arms. The baby is perfectly safe, Mickey can tell that it will stay that way based on how tenderly Derek is treating her.

“Hi sweetie,” Derek says as he cradles Mikayla in his arms. “Wow, she’s so light.” He smiles and starts bouncing the child softly, trying to quiet her. She doesn’t seem willing to give in anytime soon, and her cries reach a higher pitch.

“Sorry, she’s dramatic sometimes,” Mickey offers with a shrug. “She’ll quiet down once she knows she’s got everyone’s attention.”

“It’s alright. I’m not scared of a little crying.” Derek laughs to himself and tries to shush Mikayla. It works and her cries start fading out so that it’s easy for the man to speak over them. “Besides, I figure I’ve got to get some practice with little ones anyway, seeing as I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, wow. Congrats man.” Mickey says. He watches the way Derek snuggles his daughter and offers him a warning. “She seems to go easy on everyone. I’ve been told I shouldn’t think of her as the norm.”

“Gotcha,” Derek says, turning a smile towards the quiet baby blinking up at him. His expression gets clouded with the way he’s melting over Mikayla.

Derek’s whole being looks excited, embracing every second of pregnancy in a way that would have never rightly fit Mickey. Now that he’s living as Mikayla’s father, Mickey can appreciate the other man’s exhilaration, even if it does come with a sting of being a reminder to the turbulent road Mickey and Ian found themselves on when they were in Derek’s position. There is a small tug of jealously that Mickey is able to keep under control. Still, he can’t help but wonder what the last few months of his life would have been like had he and Ian been confident enough to believe they could handle fatherhood straight from the get-go.

Confident that Mikayla is in good hands, Mickey is able to concentrate enough to get his work done. Everything is in working order by the time Ian arrives and Robert leaves the room to open the front door for him.

Ian joins the men in the entertainment room, his presence causing an immediate twitch to the corners of Mickey’s lips. After greeting Robert and meeting Derek, Ian succumbs to the magnetic pull between him and Mickey. Mickey has a distinct feeling that there are eyes on him when he and Ian lose themselves for a moment, forgetting they’ve got an audience and slipping into a brief moment of PDA. Their kiss is fleeting, but it’s there, happening on its own accord, the lines between them blurring enough to let on that Ian and Mickey are part of one another. When they pull away, Ian offers to take Mikayla from Derek, but the other man asks if he can hold onto the baby just a while longer. It’s well enough that he does, since Ian needs his hands free to get any installation of his handiwork done. Ian drops a kiss to Mikayla’s forehead and follows Robert out of the room.

“I see she’s got the two of you on a tight leash,” Derek says with an amused smile on his face. There is a knowing quality behind his eyes that makes Mickey think the man has a hint of the struggle Mickey and Ian had to get to this point in their lives.

“Yeah. Kayla’s pretty determined to be a daddies’ girl.” Mickey quips as he returns his tools to their case. Looking at Derek and the way he shifts Mikayla to his other arm, he is struck with the thought that this man, who he barely knows, had somehow managed to be excited over the fact that Mickey was pregnant straight from the beginning. A blind type of confidence, almost like Derek knew things would work out. “You’re good with her. I think you’ll figure out how to be a good dad to your kid,” Mickey says, partially because it’s true and partially because he remembers needing to hear things like that when he was pregnant with Mikayla.

“Yeah?” Derek asks, voice giving away just how much he likes the sound of Mickey’s words.

“Yeah,” Mickey nods confidently. “But I’m stealing her back. You can grow your own.” He reaches out and pulls Mikayla towards him, letting her nuzzle under his chin and melt her weight into the protective hold of her father. “Hi baby girl,” he breathes into her ear and recharges himself after having her out of his hold for so long.

Derek laughs and shakes his head in amusement. “Looks like you’re making wrapping you around her fingers a pretty easy job for Mikayla.”

Mickey’s not going to argue.

***

Ian pulls back from his work, standing a good teen feet away from it and crossing his arms over his chest. Head cocked to the left, he tries to figure out if he likes what he’s seeing and pat himself on the back or if he’s going to dive back in and continue working.

“It looks good,” Jason provides for him as he rounds the corner, wiping his hands, dusty with wood shavings, on the thighs of his jeans.

“Huh?” Ian says, his trance preventing him from hearing anything clearly.

“The crib. It looks real good man.”

“You think?” Ian asks hopefully while stepping closer to his creation and running his fingers over the crib.

“Yeah. Dude, I couldn’t do that if I tried.” Jason stops a few feet from Ian and makes a show of truly studying the crib. “It looks good. A hell of a lot better than some of the shit you can buy in stores.”

“I just wasn’t sure…you know?” Ian runs his hands down the curved wood serving as bars. “I never made one of these and I might have gone a little overboard.” His fingers catch on the way he’s made the wood look like is has vines growing around it. That type of detail work is not his forte but he’s proven pretty good at it. He knows that he went overboard with his plans for the crib but once his head was filled with ideas of making Mikayla’s crib with his own two hands, there was no way to stop himself. He is head over heels in love with his and Mickey’s little girl.

It’s true that he’s probably been pushing himself too hard, but he’s still got a hold the reins of his stability. He isn’t going to burn himself out; if he thought he was heading in that direction, then he’d stop. He’s never going to allow himself to mess around with his life so carelessly. And maybe he shouldn’t have lied to Mickey about needing to get work done at the shop. The words weren’t complete lies. Ian really did have work to get done and things to show Jason, but he’s lingered at the workshop for extra hours every day to work on the crib. It’s not like Mikayla is going to be sleeping in it yet since they’re perfectly happy to keep her snuggled up in her bassinet, but she’s going to need it eventually.

“Mickey’s gonna give you that face,” Jason says.

“What face?” Ian asks, giving his employee a confused expression.

“You know, that face where he thinks you’ve gone overboard but then he scoffs and looks at you with the biggest damn smile in his eyes.”

“Should I be worried that you seem to know my boyfriend so well?” Ian raises an eyebrow and turns to lean against the crib.

“Hey, you hired me to work with the two of you. You try being around two people who emote so much with their body language rather than their words. It’s kind of hard _not_ to pick up on things like that.” Jason punches Ian in the shoulder and laughs. “Relax, I’ve got _no_ intentions of stealing your man. I’ve got two women in my life who I’m more interested in spending time with.” As an afterthought, he adds, “no offence.”

“None taken.” Ian laughs and shakes his head. He was joking all along, knows Jason’s straight and happily married, but the moment of uncertainty came out of his mouth anyway. “You’re right though. He is going to do that. And then he’s going to get on me for spending so much time at the workshop working on it.”

“Yeah, but then maybe he’ll _get on you_ ,” Jason says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Ugh,” Ian breathes out as he rolls his eyes, shoving Jason so that he has to take two steps backwards to get his balance again. They’re both laughing when he does it. “I don’t feel like talking about my sex life with you.” He gives Jason the middle finger and goes back to inspecting the crib. Everything seems like it’s actually done. Not only is the wood sanded and finished to perfection, but the varnish is such a perfect dark cherry chocolate color that Ian has to commend himself for staining the wood so perfectly. “Wanna help me load this up in the truck?”

“Sure thing.” Jason jogs into position and it’s easy enough to get the crib out of the workshop and into Ian’s truck. Making sure it’s secure, Jason hops out of the truck and turns to face his boss. “Yo, listen, Ian. I know it’s going to sound fucking lame, but…for what it’s worth, I think you’re an awesome dad. Really. I mean, you made your kid’s crib. That’s dedication right there.”

Fingers combing his hair back, Ian nods. “That’s worth a lot, actually. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I mean…just giving credit where credit is due, right? Besides,” he turns his palm up and gestures into his words, “it’s good to hear it sometimes, right? Sometimes we do things we originally thought we couldn’t. Or things we have no idea how to do. Like me moving out here and starting all over again. Kinda only happened because you took a chance on my ass. So thanks for that.”

“Seriously, I should be thanking you,” Ian says. “It’s good to have another pair of hands I can trust. And don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing a great job.” Ian gives Jason another smile. He means the words. Hiring Jason has been a surprisingly better decision than he first thought. “I’d be up shit’s creek without you.”

“Nah, you’d just have to close up shop for a little bit while you figure out the daddy life. But thanks for the compliment.” Jason pauses for a second before adding, “Hey, when you and Mickey feel like you have the time, why don’t you bring Mikayla over to my place and we can grill some burgers or something? I know it would make Naomi happy to see Jayda’s clothing being put to good use. We can give Mikayla and Jayda some girl time,” he jokes. “Besides, I am sure you could use a break.”

“Yeah, we should do that.” Ian nods. He and Mickey have managed to make friends in town, but they’re more of acquaintances, ones they see when they go out drinking. There is a serious lack of people in their life who have children, aside from family. And the thought of a future where his daughter actually has a friend close to her age pulls on all of his heart strings. “I’ll run it by Mick when I get home.”

“No rush.” Jason makes a mock salute towards Ian and grins. “Good luck with the crib, man. Be sure to let me know if I was right about Mickey giving you that look and all.”

“Thanks. I will.” Ian climbs into his truck and starts the engine. Leaning out the window, he waves a goodbye to Jason before heading home.

The drive is uneventful but Ian’s heart flutters in his chest at the thoughts of bringing the crib into their apartment. It’s actually the first piece of furniture that Ian had made for himself with the intention of keeping it. Sure, some of their dressers are prototypes that he was working on, but nothing he’s ever brought home has been tailor-made to fit into their lives. Mostly, he and Mickey didn’t see the point of filling their shitty apartment with more than they need. They have been getting by just fine with the way things are in their apartment. Now, however, Ian’s heart skips a beat because Mikayla’s crib is the first time he’s bringing his skillset into the family at full force. It’s a step in so many ways and Ian can’t help but feel nervous. He _knows_ Mickey’s going to like it, just like he knows Mikayla is going to get a good night’s sleep in it, but a feeling of anxiety curls around his bloodstream. His work is also his art; bringing something of the crib’s caliber home is like ripping his heart open and exposing everything inside him. He knows he can trust Mickey and Mikayla with that, but it still leaves him jumpy.

When he gets home, he’s glad he has a dolly in his truck because the crib is fucking heavy. He really wants to show up at the door with the crib so he can surprise Mickey. Walking Mickey to the truck to see it just won’t have the type of reaction he’s gunning for. Even with the dolly’s help, it’s a struggle to get the crib to their front door. He’s paranoid about it getting dented or chipped so he moves with a snail’s pace.

Once there, he throws open the door, not meaning to look as winded as he does when he comes face to face with Mickey.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey says before Ian gets a chance to get any words out. He lowers one eyebrow while raising the other.

“Uhh, nothing. Come’er.” Grabbing Mickey’s hand, he pulls him towards the door, opening it wide enough for the older the man to the crib. Granted, the crib is still on its side, but it’s there.

“What is that?” The question leaves Mickey’s lips slowly, intonation giving away the fact that he knows exactly what he’s looking at.

“It’s a crib. Mikayla’s crib. I made it for her and…” Ian scratches at the back of his neck and smiles nervously. “You think she’ll like it?”

“Ian. She’s a baby. She kind of likes everything as long as she’s got a meal in her belly.” He narrows his eyes at Ian, flitting them from his boyfriend’s face to the crib.

“That’s not true. She hates when you blow in her face.”

“ _You_ blow in her face,” Mickey corrects.

“Yeah, well…she makes the cutest expression.” Ian waves his hand in the space between them in an attempt to get their conversation on track. “Seriously, Mick. I made it for her. And…” He stops talking when Mickey reaches out a hand and traces the curve of each piece of wood that Ian painstakingly selected to be part of the crib.

“You made this?” Mickey says, drawling out the questions because he’s not done with it yet. “For her?”

“Yeah.”

Ian lets the silence between them settle, working to tug the crib into their apartment so he and Mickey can get a feel for what it will be like as a fixture in their lives.

Jason, as it turns out, is completely right. Mickey shakes his head at Ian, eyes rolling just slightly towards the ceiling before coming back to stare at Ian. There is a wave of emotion slamming into them. It starts out as looking like he wants to tease Ian for being such a sap, but then it shifts into something so sweet and loving that Ian can tell Mickey’s genuinely touched. Ian lets the gaze linger on him for a minute, letting it blanket him and calm the anxiety he’d had over bringing the crib home. “Shit, I love you, Mick.”

“Yeah, I know.” Mickey laughs at that, taking slow steps to close the gap between them. “You’re fucking gay,” Mickey teases without a hint of heat in the world. He tilts his head upward and lets their lips find each other’s. “You made that for her.” It’s a statement, Mickey’s certainty anchoring the fact that he can pinpoint all of the emotions that are painted on the crib along with the varnish. “It’s fucking amazing, Ian. She’s going to love it.” Mickey slides his hands up Ian’s back so that he can brace the man near his shoulder blades. “You’re amazing. You know that? You made this for her and it’s….it’s fucking awesome. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever made.”

“Uh, no. That would be Mikayla.” Ian knocks his forehead against Mickey’s, remaining there while the comment soaks in.

Mickey groans out a playful sound to let Ian know how lame and sappy he thinks the younger man is. “Yeah, well, you know what I fucking mean.” He bites at Ian’s lower lip, holding it between his teeth for a second longer than usual, harsh and rough before he melts away into something softer. He lets go so he can kiss Ian gently, mumbling something that sounds like “love you” into the man’s lips. Mickey pulls away so they can talk without going cross-eyed but doesn’t let go of his hold on Ian upper body. “How long did this thing take you?”

“I dunno…a bunch of hours. It was an idea bouncing around in my head a little after Mikayla was born, when you were sleeping. I wanted her to have something safe she could sleep in, something I could depend on that I knew could last, something I made with my own hands.” He paused and brushed his lips against Mickey’s hairline. “I fell so in love with her that it made my head spin. I didn’t know that would happen. And I wanna be a good – _great_ – dad to her. I figured I could start with making sure her crib was perfect.”

For a minute, Mickey doesn’t say much, he simply narrows his eyes at Ian and studies him. “You wanna drag the crib into the apartment instead of leaving it in the kitchen?”

That lightens the emotional intensity of the mood and they work to get the crib butted up against the far wall of the apartment. It is a tight squeeze and, quite frankly, the crib’s delicate carvings and the personality that comes with handmade items looks out of place. It’s a little big but they make it work.

It’s not perfect, but in a way, that’s what make it perfect. It’s different than anything else in their apartment, but so is Mikayla.

Match made in heaven, Ian supposes.

Ian knows they need to get a mattress and some bedding before Mikayla can actually sleep in it, but he stupidly wants to show her the crib anyway. When he goes searching for her, he finds he sleeping angelically in her bouncer. Her tiny fingers twitch in her sleep and Ian strokes his pointer finger over them, lingering there until she instinctively circles her fist around the digit in her sleep. He slips away from her and returns to his boyfriend, finding that Mickey’s still quiet, studying the crib, running his hands over it and tracing the vine pattern that follows throughout. “Mick – ” Ian starts but he’s cut off by a crash of Mickey’s lips.

“Shut up,” he sighs into Ian’s mouth. “Kayla is sleeping and I’m fucking horny.” Mickey presses his body against Ian’s so that his weight forces Ian to step backwards and land himself against the sliver of blank wall space beside the crib.

Ian’s brain can definitely get on board with this. If bringing furniture home has this type of effect on Mickey, he’ll bring home something new every day. They’ll have so much furniture that they won’t know what to do with it all. He laughs to himself, giving into Mickey’s kiss and skimming his hands up and under the backside of Mickey’s t-shirt. The older man’s skin is warm and comforting, familiar in a way that makes Ian’s heart thrum louder. “Ugh, Mick,” he moans. It’s been so long since they’ve been like this and now that Mickey’s reminded him what it’s like, all the blood in his body seems intent on heading towards his dick. It almost makes him light headed and he grinds his hips forward so that his growing arousal brushes into Mickey’s thigh.

The feeling of Ian’s erection pressing into Mickey coaxes an amused noise of satisfaction from Mickey’s lips and he forcefully grabs one of Ian’s hands and presses it down firmly on his own dick. Keeping his hand over Ian’s, Mickey helps them settle into stroking motion like Mickey’s trying to refresh the younger man’s memory about the ways to fondle his dick. “Fucking missed you,” Mickey growls out just before deepening the kiss and swiping his tongue inside Ian’s gasping lips.

“Mick,” Ian breathes out, his eyes fluttering closed. “You…we can’t…” He pauses when Mickey’s hand rises from the top of his own and gives a calculated squeeze to Ian’s arousal. “Shit.” His voice gets gravely, like Mickey’s unraveling his ability to think clearly. “But we can’t…you…” Ian licks into Mickey’s mouth in favor of finishing the sentence.

“You can’t fuck me,” Mickey says, almost growling. “But I think this,” he says with a stroke of Ian’s clothed dick, “is okay.”

“Oh god, Mickey,” Ian moans, eyes closing and he is melting all the more against Mickey and his mouth. His hips rock forward on their own accord and he deepens the kiss. Now that Mickey’s set them into motion, they’ve tipped over the edge of being able to stop and their hands move hastily across the plains of each other’s bodies. He’s full own pawing Mickey’s arousal, applying enough pressure to make sure he’s giving Mickey the type of friction that will keep him on edge. Ian really wants to draw all of this out, but they’ve got a sleeping newborn and he’s not going to tempt fate. He’ll be careful with Mickey, but they’re going to have to do this hard and fast. Pulling away from Mickey’s lips, Ian busies his mouth with the pulse points on Mickey’s neck as he spins them and forces Mickey to walk in the direction of their futon.

That type of response is exactly what Mickey was looking for. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was horny because he’s so eager to chase all of Ian’s actions that it stirs the coil of want in Ian’s belly faster and makes their heartrate’s spike. It’s a joint effort that finds Mickey on the couch, laying on his back, barely getting an exhale of air out before Ian is blanketing his body, their lips connecting again.

Kissing Mickey makes Ian’s head spin. These types of kisses have a stronger effect on Ian’s body than the brief ghosting slides against one another’s lips that they’ve fallen into a habit of. These types of kisses come with panting, keening, and a type of wanting that makes their world spin off its axis. Time slows down and speeds up all at once and nothing exists right now other than the connections their bodies are making. “Mick,” Ian breathes out into the space behind Mickey’s ear. He kisses the skin softly and then makes a line of kisses towards his lips.

“Fuck, Ian,” Mickey groans, his hips lifting while worming one of his hands between them. From there, it is quick work to get Ian’s belt unbuckled and his pants undone. He shoves them down roughly, straining to reach forward so he can slide them over the swell of Ian’s ass, yanking the man’s underwear along with them. Thankfully, Ian decides to help him out by lifting his hips so Mickey’s hands can free his hard length. The arousal springs free, hot and solid in Mickey’s hands and reacts immediately as the older man curls his fingers around it to give several teasing pumps.

Ian moans something that is nowhere close to being words, lips dragging over Mickey’s and landing on the younger man’s cheek while he moans. He struggles to find a way to get his hands into Mickey’s pants and kisses become sloppier, chest falling to Mickey’s as Ian pulls his hips upward to give him room to work. He really doesn’t want Mickey to let go of his dick, so it’s slow going in managing to get Mickey’s jeans unzipped and slid down just below his ass, making sure the front is pushed down enough so Mickey’s cock pulls free of their restraint. From there, it only takes a quick flick of his wrist to find the perfect way to pump his fist around Mickey’s dick and have the man moaning.

Grinning into the kiss, Mickey grabs the globes of Ian’s ass and pulls him forward, making their bare dicks slide alongside each other’s. The sensation is delicious, Ian’s moans prompting Mickey to do it again, pressing their arousals together and pretty soon they dissolve into rutting against one another, panting into their kisses. It feels like they’re fucking teenagers, the way they’re moaning and writhing, hurdling towards an orgasm. Ian’s blaming that on the fact that they’ve gone without sex for a pretty abnormal stretch of time than is usual for them. Mickey gasps when Ian puts more weight on his hips, intensifying the pressure on their dicks as he rolls his hips against him in incessant waves _._

Mickey’s gets impatient, he bucks up and they both lose their rhythm for a moment. Neither man cares because the opportunity provides them with the ability to kiss into each other’s mouths and swallow down moans they’d rather not let their daughter hear. Their arousals are still pressed together, solid and hot between them, making both men rut into each other in search of friction. Mickey pulls away from Ian just enough to let the younger man see the devious look on his face when he shifts his hips and adds his hand to the mix again. This time, he angles his hand so his fingertips brush over Ian’s balls and stroke upward before he starts fisting Ian’s arousal.

“Oh, shit…Mickey…Just like that.” Ian’s eyes flutter back for a second and his moans turn breathy. He tries to return the favor but Mickey twists his hips in a way that denies him that.

“I got it.” Mickey says, all cocky attitude and pride. “Let me drive.” He stains upwards so he can kiss the smile of pleasure off Ian’s lips and settles a hand on Ian’s belly, making Ian lift up just long enough to allow Mickey the ability to get both of their dicks just where he wants them. His tattooed hand wraps around both of their arousals, testing the new weight in his hand a few times before he figures out how to work them both towards an orgasm. His wrist twists, stroking up and down slowly, feeling the solidity of Ian’s lust against his own hard flesh. The kissing becomes uncoordinated to the point where both men are sloppy, choosing instead to keep their lips connected in breathy gasps rather than actually kissing.

Ian’s forehead connects with Mickey’s, eyes opening so they can lock gazes. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest because Ian is absolutely obsessed with this person. He’s completely entangled in Mickey and there is no way he’s going to make it out alive – not that he wants to. They are live wires, dancing so closely to orgasm that they’re barely able to focus.

Mickey’s thumb brushes over the heads of both of their dicks and comes away wet with the mix of their precome. Each pump of his wrist becomes faster, more insistent, and it matches the increased speed of their heavy breathing. Ian’s lightheaded in the best possible way, heart pounding in time with Mickey’s, a sheen of sweat building on the two of them. They’re still rocking against each other, but Mickey’s fist holds them in a solid connection. Mickey knows what Ian likes and he knows what he likes himself; it’s an unbeatable combination as he works them over.

“Mick, come on,” Ian coaxes. He tilts his head so he can see the way Mickey’s moving the muscles of his body and he knows he’s a goner. He’s going to come even if Mickey stops moving his fist because Mickey looks so blissed out that it shoves him over the edge. His hands get a hold of Mickey’s hips, fingers brushing again skin and muscles he hasn’t had a chance to claw at in so long. He knows he’s holding him hard enough to bruise, digging his thumbs in just the way Mickey likes it and when he hears his boyfriend’s hiss of pleasure, Ian’s head starts reeling. “Shit!”

“No, just wait a second,” Mickey growls. It’s a demand, and he bites his lower lip, angles his hips at a slightly different angle and works his fist faster. With his free hand, he gets a good hold of the meat of Ian’s ass and presses down. They are so close that there isn’t even air between them anymore. “Fuck yes” he growls out, head pressing into the futon as his orgasm hits him full force and he’s coming with punctuated jolts of his hips. His hand keeps moving, although their smooth rhythm is thrown off by the waves of pleasure hitting him.

Ian takes over a little at the end, aiding Mickey’s fist and keeping it pumping mainly because it feels good, not because he needs it. But Ian’s being greedy. He wants to watch Mickey come. It might inflate his ego a little, but Ian loves to watch the way Mickey falls to pieces when he comes. It’s fucking gorgeous. Eyes fluttering back, he lets go and thick pulses of come land on their hot bellies, smearing between them with the residual movements of their hips.

They work through their orgasm, muffling their moans by slotting their lips together and taking in the same breaths of air. Everything is still sparkling and they keep kissing because the moment is going to end whether they want it to or not and Ian would much rather soak every single drop of it in.

“Next time I’ll bring you a bed. Then we can fuck in that.” Ian says playfully, nuzzling Mickey’s ear with is nose and filling it with the sounds of trying to catch his breath.

“Asshole,” Mickey snorts but laughs all the same, flattened under Ian’s weight so that the low rumble of his voice vibrates against Ian’s chest. “Shit, I needed that.”

“I did too.” Ian slides forward enough to place a soft kiss on Mickey’s lips but there is enough slide to the movement to make it obvious that there is a sticky mess between the two of them. “I missed this.”

“Ugh, why would you miss _that_ ,” he scoffs at the idea of their drying come. There are words on the tip of his tongue but none get out because a familiar whimper cuts through the room. It’s Mikayla’s hungry cry, which is right on time. Groaning, Mickey buries his face in Ian’s neck, muffling his words. “How does that kid always find a way to make sure we don’t forget about her for too long?”

“Hey, at least she let her daddies come,” Ian jokes, pulling off of Mickey to rip his shirt off so it can be used to clean up the mess they’ve made.

Mickey’s voice is deadpan as he looks up at Ian. “Don’t you ever talk about our daughter and coming in the same sentence. Ever. Again.” He glares at Ian, letting the younger man wipe away the mess they’ve made on his belly.

All Ian does is give Mickey a smug smirk and saunter off to wash his hands. Mickey did all the work just then, he’ll let his boyfriend zone out on the couch for a while as he prepares Mikayla’s bottle and feeds her.

Besides, he’s pretty sure that once Mickey reels himself in from the aftershocks of the orgasm and composes himself, he’s going to be back to not really giving a shit about anything other than the fact that the three of them are alive and kicking.

And that is fucking awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay...writers block. Mostly because I really want to post the next chapter and was more focused on that.


	23. Where We've Been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning...This chapter ends with some porny sex.

Mickey likes Katie just fine but he doesn’t think he will ever get used to spreading his legs for anyone other than Ian. Sure, she’s a doctor and all, and the context is different, but it doesn’t stop the tension from building up inside Mickey as he makes his way to Katie’s home office. He has Mikayla with him because he knows Katie’s dying to see her. Even though Mickey’s aware he’s going to have to listen to her baby talk, he kind of likes watching people fawn over his daughter. It’s like they’re smart enough to realize how awesome Mikayla is.

“Hey, Mickey,” Katie says as he’s pushing the door open. Mickey’s caught her in the middle of crossing to the next exam room and she stops so suddenly that she need a second to regain her balance. “You brought the baby!”

Shrugging, Mickey places the baby carrier on a waiting room chair. “Yeah. I figured you’d wanna see how much she’s growing and shit.” The comment tumbles out of his mouth like he’s brushing the event off as no big deal. Except it is a big deal. A huge one. He, Mickey Milkovich, is toting his daughter around like the princess he’s come to see her as and both Mickey and Katie know how many emotional milestones it took to get to this point. He’s not fooling anyone. Even so, Mickey doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he unbuckles his daughter and hoists her out of the carrier. “Com’ere princess.” Mikayla is wide awake, blue eyes blinking and gummy mouth curving into a smile at the sound of her father’s voice. The gesture is nothing short of contagious and Mickey can’t help himself; his grin turns into an open mouthed smile and he snickers at her.

Mikayla coos a warm sweet sound. She blinks a few times, palms thumping against the safe arms of her father as he lifts her against him.

“Oh, my god, Mickey. Look at her!” Closing the gap between them, Katie wears a matching smile as she melts over the sight of the six week old.

“Wanna hold her?” Mickey asks with an arch of his eyebrows, his gaze shifted towards the doctor.

“Can I?” Katie waits for a nod before taking the baby into her arms. Melting even further, Katie’s whole aura softens when she sighs over the perfection that is Mikayla. “Oh, Mikey! She’s so big. She looks so good!” With the baby cradled under her chin, Katie wraps both arms around the tiny bundle and adds a slight bounce to her stance. “When’d you get so big?”

On some level, it’s like Mikayla realizes she’s not in her father’s arms anymore because she puppy whimpers and furrows her brow. In that moment, she looks so much like Mickey that is sends a renewed pang of love through Mickey’s heart. The baby doesn’t cry, but she does decide to be a tough cookie, making Katie work for a smile and happy coo.

The doctor rest her cheek gently on the top of Mikayla’s red wisps of hair. “She’s so pretty, Mickey.” Smiling, she turns her attention to the baby. “Aren’t you princess? You’re just the cutest baby I ever had the honor of delivering.” She laughs to herself. “Even though your daddy kind of did all the work. Wait, what did you say Mikayla was going to call you?” She scrunches her nose, brain reeling back as she tries to remember.

“Tato. But…I mean…she can call me whatever she wants. I’m her dad. Doesn’t matter. Just thought…maybe she’d get confused if both Ian and I are ‘dad’. You know? Want her to be able to differentiate between the two of us.” Rocking back on his heels, Mickey shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s not like she can talk yet anyway.”

In an act of defiance, Mikayla elicits a loud yelp that surprises all of them, even Mikayla.

A snort of laughter flows out of Katie. “Don’t sell her short. She’ll pick up things you don’t even realize.” She goes back to snuggling the baby and lets out a wistful, “thank goodness David isn’t here. He’d steal her. He’s dying for a daddy’s girl of his own.”

“I’d fucking kill him.” Mickey says, completely serious before his expression lightens and he cracks a smile.

“Don’t doubt that for a minute.” Bouncing the little girl with more exaggerated dips, her voice sing-songs as she speaks to her. “Your tato – am I saying that right? – is a little overprotective. You’re going to give him a heart attack by the time you’re a teenager.”

That thought is more than a bit terrifying to Mickey. He’s already realized that fact himself but in an effort to keep himself from going overboard, he’s focusing on the _now_. The _later_ can wait for another days. Right _now_ , Mikayla is a tiny form of perfection and she certainly isn’t going to do anything that will make him want to hunt people down.

Katie cuts his thoughts off. “So, ready to get this whole exam over? I’m sure you’ll be glad to have all the restrictions lifted.” She gives him a quirky little wink and waggles her brows.

“Yeah, this is exactly how I want to spend my Tuesday afternoon,” he gripes, but follows Katie to an exam room without any complaint. She’s still got the baby so he takes Kayla’s carrier along with him. In truth, Katie’s right; Mickey is glad to have restrictions lifted. Mostly, he’s been fussing over Mikayla most of the time so he hasn’t had downtime to think about all the things he’s not supposed to be doing. However, he’s found himself with the realization that, though he’s not one for exercise, he’s wanting to buck the rule mandating no heavy lifting. He’s never had abs, doesn’t think he ever will, but his middle has seen better days and he really wants to get back to looking like the guy he was. Plus, even though he and Ian have been quenching their sexual needs in other ways, he really _needs_ Ian to fuck him. He thinks Katie gets that, much to his embarrassment. But he doesn’t give too much of a shit. Katie knows they fuck; she’s holding the product of that fact.

“Okay, you know the drill,” Katie says once they’re in the room. She tips her head towards the exam table where a folded paper gown is laying on top. “Gown on and hop up on the table. I’ll hang onto this little monkey while I give you some privacy.”

Mickey sneers at that. “You’re kinda gonna be all up in my junk…at this point, privacy seems kind of stupid.”

“Yeah well, it gives the illusion of privacy.” She curls her lip and sticks her tongue out at him. “Now shut up and put the gown on. We’ll be back.” She doesn’t wait for a response, simply turns and leaves Mickey alone in the room. She returns a few minutes later with Mikayla shifted onto her left shoulder, to find that Mickey hasn’t put up a fight and it sitting tensely on the exam table. “If it makes you feel any better, I hate any type of exam like this as well. Kinda funny when you think about the fact that I chose this as my profession.” She bends to place Mikayla safely in her carrier before going to wash her hands.

“Yeah, I’m laughing.” Mickey chews his bottom lip and falls into waiting silently.

In a way that Katie seems to have perfected, she steamrolls over any awkwardness that might exist and gets right to business. It’s why Mickey likes her. She shoots the shit with him, but she also doesn’t bullshit him. She’s real and bluntly honest. So even though she’s got her hands and vision between Mickey’s legs, he’s able to deal with it. Still, Mickey finds himself wincing, even though she’s not really hurting him.

She pauses. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He rolls his head to the side and looks at Mikayla, watching the way her hands dance in the air in front of her.

“So, you’re feeling good then? I mean…looks good on this end. But how’re _you_ feeling?

“Normal…I think? A little like a fat ass – ” Cheeks flushing, he cuts himself off, not sure how he allowed himself to let the words tumble out of his mouth.

“Oh shut up.” Katie whacks his outer thigh and scoffs. “You look great. Really. It’s oddly discerning how good your body is at this pregnancy thing.”

That earns another snort from Mickey. He’d never thought he would be considered good at anything, and even then, it definitely wouldn’t be pregnancy.

“But you and Ian are good? I’ve gone from seeing you two all the time before Mikayla was born, to hardly a sign of life from either of you.”

“You gonna chit-chat or do your job?” Mickey raises an eyebrow at her.

“Both. It’s how I make sure you’re still with me.” Katie looks up to give Mickey a knowing sideways smile. “So? You and Ian?”

A sigh of surrender leaves Mickey’s throat. “We’re _good_. He’s…awesome.” The word sounds childish on his tongue but he can’t think of some other term to get across how Ian’s been. “He built her crib and…he’s been great. We’re great. Haven’t needed to come pounding down your door over stupid fears and worries because I think we’ve got this. I mean…she’s still alive. And we’re doing _this_.”

“Of course you are. I told you that you would.” Katie pulls away and peels her latex gloves off. “You’re all good, you can sit up.” She skids back on he wheeled stool and smiles. “You look good, Mickey. And I don’t just mean the exam. I mean everything.” Giving a soft smile, her whole body radiates a sense of pride. “Everything’s great.”

Mickey thought as much, but it still feels good to hear it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And don’t worry about being strangers. I get it. I was a hermit after Cody was born. But let’s not make a habit of it. I think it’s clear that you and Ian have become more than just patients of mine.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I was right when I first met you. I knew you were going to be a breath of fresh air for my practice. Kinda had a feeling.”

The sentiment hits Mickey in the chest and he can’t deny that it feels good to be cared about by someone who started out as his doctor but became something more. Keeping up a front, Mickey shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t go around thinking you’re special because we’re friends or anything.”

Feigning sincerity, Katie folds her hands over her heart. “Oh no, I would never.” They share a laugh and when they come down from it, Katie takes a turn towards seriousness. “So, you’re all good. Meaning…sex. That’s back on the table. Just be cautious. Don’t do anything that doesn’t feel right. It might take a little time for _everything_ to get back on track. But…you’re good.” She lets it sink in for a moment before hurdling the next idea at Mickey. “Why don’t you let me watch Mikayla? Just for a few hours, not over night or anything. Kinda seems like you and Ian could benefit from some much needed time to yourselves.”

Mickey’s aware that his heartrate spikes. He hears what Katie is saying and she’s right. God is she right. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Katie with Mikayla; he’s trusted her with his daughter’s life straight from the get-go.  Scratching at the back of his head, Mickey’s words drawl out. “Yeah, I dunno…”

Katie stands her ground. “It’s just for a few hours.”

A thought pops up in Mickey’s head. He’s had a few things on his radar for a while. Even since Mandy’s visit, his mind has been whirling about the fact that they’re outgrowing the current apartment he and Ian rent. He’s found a bunch of apartments that fit everything they’d need: their price range, the size, the location. The only thing keeping him from talking about it was Ian is fear of a letdown incase things fall through. But if Katie’s offering Mickey the opportunity to chat with Ian without any distractions, then it’s time to swallow his anxiety over the situation and do it. “Can you watch her tonight? Like…if I take her for a while now and bring her back later? There is something I’ve been meaning to do and…I was kinda hoping for some uninterrupted time to talk to Ian about it.”

She nods. “I can do tonight.” The nervousness is written all over Mickey’s face and makes Katie shake her head. “You can call every hour, papa-bear,” she teases.

“I don’t need to fucking call every hour.” Mickey curls his lip.

Unconvinced, Katie lets out an, “Uhh huh.”

And damn it, Mickey knows the temptation to call is going to be there. Hopefully, however, his mind will be distracted by other things.

***

Ian’s padding around the apartment, wondering where his boyfriend and daughter are, when he hears a key twist in the front door’s lock. Turning, he expects to be met with the very two people he’s been thinking about, except Mikayla is nowhere in sight.

Forgoing a greeting, Ian’s words are slathered with alarm when he asks, “Where’s Kayla?”

“Hello to you too.” Mickey gives a smug smile, yanking Ian by the collar of his shirt and pressing a quick kiss to the adorable expression of concern the younger man is wearing. “Kayla is with Katie.”

Pulling back from the kiss, Ian blinks dumbly and furrows his brow. “With Katie?”

“Relax, tough guy.” Mickey grabs both of Ian’s wrists, squaring his hips so they face each other. They settle into their usual rhythm, the connection grounding Ian. “She’s watching the kid for a while.” Picking up on the way Ian tenses at that, he repeats the words Katie had used on him. “Relax. It’s just for a few hours.”

“Because?” Ian stands there waiting for Mickey to elaborate, an expectant look washing over his face.

“Because,” Mickey starts, tugging Ian so that they can sit down at the kitchen table. “Because, I wanted to talk to you about something. And I thought maybe it would be easier if Mikayla wasn’t distracting us.”

Ian looks at Mickey for a solid twenty seconds before speaking. He can’t stop his gut from twisting up in worry; there are too many memories of Mickey sitting him down like this and talking to him. It used to be about his meds but he’s been good about that, unlike the way he was when he was diagnosed. When they were young and stupid, one of them would storm off, or they would come to blows, or they would come so close to fucking up a good thing. They’ve grown well beyond that, but the reflex is still there and it makes a shiver run down Ian’s spine. “And we need to do that because?”

Mickey fucking laughs.

He laughs at the way Ian’s tensing up and Ian’s even more confused than he was before. “Mick, what the – ”

“Nah, man…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh…but…shit, Ian. You look so damn _cute_. I can smell the fire burning in your head.” Mickey laughs again.

“Fuck you, Mick.” This time, Ian laughs too because clearly whatever Mickey has to say isn’t the type of thing that’s going to tear them to pieces.

“‘Ey!” Mickey flips Ian the finger and smiles. “You looking like that…” His words drift off into his own thoughts. “I love you, okay? And right now, I’m kinda drowning in that.”

Nothing makes sense to Ian. He knows Mickey loves him, they definitely don’t have to talk about that. “Mickey, can you just tell me what the hell is going on?” Ian appreciates Mickey’s feelings, but right now he is so turned around he doesn’t know where his boyfriend is going with all this. All he knows is that Mickey’s acting a little weird and his daughter is missing. Well, she’s not _missing_ , but she’s not here and he’s kind of gotten used to having her cute butt around.

“I dunno where to start. Kinda nervous.” Mickey shrugs and inhales deeply.

“Nervous about what?” Watching Mickey’s face has Ian feeling bad for snapping.

Mickey digs in his back pocket and pulls out several folded papers. “Kinda wanted to surprise you but I thought maybe you wouldn’t react well to a surprise since it impacts all of us.” Unfolding the papers, Mickey flattens them by smoothing his palm over their surface a few times. Sliding them towards Ian, he sits back in his chair and bites the corner of his lip. “Took Mikayla with me today to look at some of those.”

“What are they?” But Ian answers the question for himself by grabbing the papers and scanning them. It’s obvious at first glance that they all deal with apartments, one apartment in particular. The sheet on top is a spec sheet containing all the details about the apartment. It even has two pictures to coincide with these facts. The ones underneath are renters’ applications. “You went apartment hunting?”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey’s cheeks flush. He reaches back to scratch at the nape of his neck. “Been thinking about looking for places for a while but every time I found one I thought you would like, it was off the market before I got to tell you. You’ve been so busy with work, and taking care of Kayla and me…I didn’t want to bother you with more stuff that might not even matter. So…I checked a few out too. I really liked this one. Think you will too. Told the lady I wasn’t agreeing to anything till I talked to you about it. She said she’d hold it for 24 hours. You have the final say.” Mickey swallows nervously and looks up at Ian, a glint of hope in his eyes.

A smile creeps across Ian’s face. It’s adorable watching Mickey squirm like he is. “Mick…did you just try to surprise me with an apartment?”

“I tried to surprise you by finding an apartment. Nothing is set in stone yet. But it’s ours if we want it.” Mickey reaches a hand across the table and traces the bumps of Ian’s knuckles. “We can swing it. Plenty of space for all of us, and Kayla can have her own room. Better than living on top of each other, yeah?”

Whatever worry Ian had been cultivating disappears as he’s warmed by the things Mickey is saying. He knows they have the money to move; they can afford a bigger place. They simply hadn’t had a reason to do so before.

Now they do.

They’ve been happy in this apartment, and while it’s scary to leave a place that they’ve called home, it’s something Ian feels ready to do. Sure, his business is taking off and he’s got some feelers out there concerning opening a storefront, but he and Mickey can do this. Smiling wider, Ian hums happily. “I think this might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

“Aye, fuck you,” Mickey snorts. “Pushing out your kid is the most romantic thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Ian laughs, raising both eyebrows and shaking his head. Mickey’s partially right because Ian will never be able to get over how proud he feels when he thinks about the moment that Mikayla was delivered. And he’ll always be eternally thankful that Mickey gave them their princess. But this is different. This is Mickey trying to be sweet, trying to do something that will make Ian happy. That will make all of them happy. A feeling of completion swirls in his chest when he’s hit with how apparent it is that Mickey knows him so well. No one on this earth understands him at the level that Mickey does. His boyfriend wanted to surprise him, but Mickey knew well enough what things he couldn’t spring on Ian.

They’re a team. They’re in this together.

Looking at the papers again, Ian can see why Mickey picked it. The apartment is double in size of what they have now and Ian’s heart thumps wildly at the thought of Mikayla having her own bedroom, her own place. His brain is already racing through ideas for the furniture he finally feels ready to make for them. He and Mickey had been moved out of Southside for years, but this feels like another giant step towards a healthy adulthood. It’s going to hit them financially for a few months but it’s nothing they can’t bounce back from. “We’re ready for this, right?” He asks, despite the fact that his heart already knows the answer.

“‘Course we are.” Mickey curls his fist around Ian’s hand and nods. “You and me…we’re it for each other. Right? Got a kid and everything.”

There is so much emotion residing behind those few words; it’s like it has a life of its own. It’s powerful and real, something that’s been growing with him and Mickey even when they were too dumb to get their heads out of their asses. Mickey’s right, this is _it_ for them. “We should do it,” he states with confidence.

Mickey’s whole body perks up, eyes bright and face light up with a contagious level of barely bottled excitement. “You think?”

“I do.” Having had enough of a kitchen table being between them, Ian gets to his feet then. He crosses so he can pull Mickey up beside him, yanking on his boyfriend’s shirt this time and fisting the fabric as he pulls him into a kiss. It starts off a little desperate because the current of sentiments running through him is intense and he doesn’t know how to stifle it without giving into the constant pull between him and Mickey. Their kiss is a livewire shooting sparks. It’s a jolt to the heart that makes him forget to breathe. It’s cliché and cheesy at all once but Mickey tapped into something when he opened their lives to the opportunity for a new chapter and Ian’s going with it. He steps closer, slotting his leg between Mickey’s and deepens the kiss.

“That’s not all I did today,” Mickey gets out between the crashing of their lips and being muffled by Ian’s tongue exploring the inside of his mouth.

“Oh yeah,” Ian breathes into the kiss. His whole body shoves forward another inch, melting against Mickey’s.

“Katie checked me out.” He breaks in his speech so that he can hook his hands under Ian’s chin and take control of the kiss. He practically growls when he dives in for another kiss, fucking his tongue into Ian’s mouth and reminding him that they belong here, in this moment. Mischievous kisses make their way along Ian’s jawline until their brushing against the younger man’s ear. “She told me we can fuck.”

The news is music to Ian’s ears. He and Mickey do a lot of things right, they’ve had time to figure them out so that they fit seamlessly into each other’s lives. But the one thing they’ve never had to figure out is fucking. They’re damn good at it and Ian would be lying if he said he doesn’t miss it. “Bed. Now.”

“Shit, yes,” Mickey growls, the kiss he gives in response is rough in a way that reveals he eagerness.

Ian finally sees the full picture over why Mickey left Mikayla with Katie. Even though he knows their return to sex is going to be over faster than they’d want, they need this. He heaves Mickey on the bed, making the mattress bounces as it settles with his weight. “Clothes off.”

“Pushy,” Mickey quips, but he’s already in the process of ridding himself of his pants.

“Don’t see you complaining.”

“Not,” Mickey says, reaching out to help Ian shuck his pants off. It’s a fumbling of limbs and clothing, but they get the job done for the most part. They hit a snag when Ian’s attempt to lift Mickey’s shirt over his head results in the older man swatting him away. “Leave it.” Mickey dives into the kiss full force, a distractive technique that would have worked had the sound of the man’s voice hit a nerve for Ian.

Ian freezes, pulling away enough to see Mickey fully. The tone of his boyfriend’s voice had done a decent job of tamping out the fire burning between them. “Mick – ” he tries but doesn’t get more than the name out.

“Stop it. It’s nothing. Just…” Mickey makes a vague gesture with his hand. In lieu of any attempt to explain himself, he tries to pull Ian down for another kiss but Ian holds his ground, cocking his head in wait for an actual response. Flopping back on the bed with a self-conscious, defeated sigh, he huffs out, “You’re all abs…and I’m all baby belly.” He cups his palm over the softness in his middle.

“I love your belly,” Ian insists without missing a beat.

“You have some weird kinks, Gallagher.”

“Not a kink.” Ian presses a palm to the middle of Mickey’s chest and forces him to lay back against the mattress. His hand snakes under Mickey’s t-shirt, thumb hooking on the hem, shimmying it upward despite Mickey’s protesting. He raises the shirt enough so that there is room for him to deposit several kisses along the skin he’s exposed. Lips brushing against the warmth there, Ian thinks Mickey’s crazy. In Ian’s opinion, his boyfriend has absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. Sure, he’s a little softer there but it’s because he carried Mikayla; Ian’s in awe over that. “I love all of you.” Ian’s kisses seemed to have distracted Mickey enough so that he’s able to glide the shirt up and over Mickey’s head. “You’re fucking hot.”

The praise lands exactly where Ian intended it to, turning the avoidant look in Mickey’s eyes into a darker one. That dirty lustful one that comes before things get good. “Gonna do anything about that?” he challenges.

“Intend to.” Draping himself over Mickey, their naked bodies slide so that they’re fitted together. There are a million things Ian wants to do to Mickey right now, but he needs to start with this, with kissing his boyfriend until he can’t see straight. Until he knows how hot he is. The moment feels calm, and he supposes that’s because they don’t have to rush with this – nothing is going to interrupt them. Hands sliding up Mickey’s flanks, Ian stretches them upward until he’s combing his fingers through the hair on the back of Mickey’s head and holding the man more tightly. The position allows Ian to bracket Mickey’s face with his forearms while he shifts his weight to fall into a deeper kiss.

Eventually, Mickey gets the point. The tension drains from his body and he lets himself melt against Ian. He’s so sexy when he’s like this, pliant and exposed, letting Ian see the pieces of him the lay underneath the walls he sometimes can’t help but put up. But he’s still as demanding as ever and after letting Ian have his way for long enough, he grumbles, “Come on,” and rolls his hips to ensure that Ian can feel every inch of the aroused dick he’s sporting.

They’ve done this so many times that it is clockwork for them, but today the air shifts and something’s different. Ian trusts Katie’s professionalism, knows she wouldn’t steer then wrong, but he can’t stop himself from being extra gentle with Mickey. There is no way in hell that Mickey doesn’t notice, but he says nothing. Maybe Mickey’s being a little careful with Ian as well. Maybe it’s because he too is aware that they’ve changed. It doesn’t feel unsettling but the fact is almost tangible.

Everything is different but it isn’t scary in the ways Mickey and Ian thought it would be. They are still them, but Ian almost feels like they’re more improved versions because the amount of soul searching they’ve done in the past year is impressive.

When Ian finally does finger Mickey open, it’s with too much lube involved and while peppering kisses all over the older man’s face. A mock complaint leaves Mickey’s mouth, but he purrs into the gestures, arching his back and getting as much skin-to-skin contact with Ian as he can. They’re making a mess and Ian works slowly, but neither of them mind. They’re so in synch with each other that they can read the subtle clues of each other’s body. There are hints in every fiber of their beings; they’ve been literate in each other for a long time. They’re both looking for clues that the other is okay and the way Mickey’s breath hitches when Ian sinks one digit in to the knuckle lets the redhead know to proceed with caution. Mickey’s tense for a moment but then he moans and let’s Ian work. It’s the type of work that Ian excels at. He makes a living using his hands at the workshop but using them to make Mickey fall apart is by far his favorite task. By the time Ian’s got three fingers inside him, scissoring them on every other thrust, Mickey’s a mess. “Feel good?”

“Mmm hmm,” Mickey gets out, twisting his head so that he can bury his face in the pillow. He’s giving up on bossing Ian around, spreading his legs wider and letting Ian have at it. When Ian’s fingers take things to the next level and brush against Mickey’s prostate, he bucks his hips and sends Ian’s digits a fraction deeper. “Keep doin’ that,” Mickey pleads, voice gravely and pulled apart with want.

Ian does.

He gets in several more thorough connections with Mickey’s prostate, letting his free hands pump lazily around Mickey’s cock. Ian knows his own dick is leaking where it’s sliding against their sheets, his hips inadvertently rocking along with the movement of the hand he has on Mickey. Sucking a bruise along Mickey’s collar bone, Ian finds it hard to get coherent thoughts out. “I wanna be inside you right now. You okay with that.”

“Hell yes,” is all Mickey has to say to move things to the next level. He looks a bit dazed when he opens his eyes, but they clear slightly as he pushes up on his forearms and points to the nightstand. “Condom. Fucking wear one.”

“Plannin’ on it.” Ian silences Mickey’s demand with a rough kiss, leaving the man gasping when he pulls away to fish a foil packet out of the drawer.

“Give me,” Mickey demands, making grabby hands towards the condom. Once he gets it, he rips it open and rolls it down Ian’s length, teasing the fuck out of Ian. At Ian’s groan of frustration, Mickey smirks, prompting Ian to kiss that smug look off his boyfriend’s face. They’re rolling onto the bed again, covering each other and saddling up so close to each other that their sharing the same breath.

Ian knows how Mickey likes to be fucked: hard and intense. He likes when they melt into one being until their heartrates link up and Ian pounds him so hard that they forget the rest of the world and see stars.

Today is not going to be like that because Ian also knows that Mickey also likes it other ways.

Sometimes the situation presents them with a moment where they have to switch it up. Words aren’t necessary to clarify that they are both on the same page. Hovering over Mickey, Ian nudges the man’s thighs open so he can settle himself between them. With a bit of maneuvering, Ian hikes Mickey’s left like open and up, wrapping it around his waist so that there is enough room for him to position the tip of his slicked up dick at Mickey’s opening. Their breaths shudder together and the lock eyes, their bodies rising and falling in tandem. When Ian slides inside Mickey, it’s like they’re moving in slow motion. It’s been a while, but that’s not why they both gasp. There’s no pain, there’s longing. They dissolve into the type of gentle, slow sex that speaks of sweetness. Ian rocks his body into Mickey and the brunette pushes up to meet him every single time. It’s different than anything they’ve ever done, or maybe it just feels that way to Ian because he’s riding high on emotions and adoration for this perfect man under him.

“I love you,” Ian breathes into the hot skin on Mickey’s neck. He kisses the area, traveling upwards so that he can kiss the crinkle of skin on the outside corner of Mickey’s left eye. He rolls his hips so ensure his dick rocks in a little deeper. “I love you,” he repeats, not because he’s looking for a response but because he unquestionably loves this man and saying it all day will never be enough to get the sentiment across.

Moaning, Mickey wraps his legs around Ian, pulling him down. His breath is coming in short pants, pushing out of his lungs each time Ian’s length fills him. “Love you too,” he says in Ian’s ear before kissing his lips and moaning down Ian’s throat.

Ian’s heart reels from the connection. They’re so much more in tune with each other. It’s mind-numbingly perfect and all that is left to do is let this moment happen together until they fall apart. Things get more intense, but they don’t get rough. It’s with breathy moans and shared shivers of pleasure that they tip over the edge and end up coming simultaneously. That’s rare for them, despite how many times they’ve fucked. It’s not that Ian wants to make a big deal about it, but it seems oddly perfect. He collapses on top of Mickey, the man’s come smearing between them, and lets out a laugh. “Shit, that was good.”

“Always fucking is,” Mickey says on the end of his own laugh. He cards his fingers through Ian’s hair and forces the younger man to kiss him through a laugh. “We’re always good,” he whispers so softly that Ian almost doesn’t catch it.

For a long while, they’ve got nothing to do but lay there and recoup. It was just sex, but it means so much more, they both know that. It’s important to remember that they’ve done so much, even if they’ve got more on their list.

They’ve gotten to this point together, where neither man is running. There isn’t even the hint of that thought on their minds.

They’re strong enough to have this moment and dwell in it. They’re so much more than they used to be when they first met. They can _do_ so much more.

They’ve had a baby together; Ian’s pretty sure they can handle moving into a larger space.

It’s not like its marriage or anything.

Because what they have, it’s better than everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Life was hectic for the last month. This is the end of the chapters but there is an Epilogue coming. And I already outlined a sequel. I am so flattered that people have enjoyed this story.  
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter. The boys are all over the place with their emotions (in a good way) but that kind of happens when all these new chapters of their lives are happening at once.


	24. Epilogue - New Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Porny parts at the end. Get it Mickey!
> 
> Also - Mikayla is fifteen months old in this Epilogue. She's freaking cute!

*****One Year Later*****

“Alright, alright,” Mickey yells, making his way towards the frantic knocking at his front door. He’s about to bitch a little more but after he yanks the door open to reveal Katie’s panicked face, the words die on his tongue. “Kate?”

“Mickey…I’m sorry…I…” She swallows before her mouth attempts to form words again. Nothing comes out so she knits her brow together, huffing out a sigh. Abandoning speech for a moment, she shifts to pull Cody into view and herds him into the apartment. “I hate to ask…but I have no one else I can leave Cody with right now. And I really need to…if that’s okay…can he stay?”

“Katie, slow the fuck down.” Mickey puts a hand on her shoulder, holding her gaze and nodding. “What’s going on?”

“I dunno…It’s David’s mother…” The air she sucks in through her nose comes across sounding like a sniffle that she’s trying to hold in. “We’ve got an emergency call that she’s unresponsive…had a bad fall at work. Mickey, David and I gotta go. To the hospital. But…I can’t take him.” She looks in her son’s direction with sad eyes as she watches the boy shift uncomfortably. Cody might be four but he’s keenly observant and he’s feeding off of his mother’s distress. “He doesn’t need to be scared like that.”

“Shit,” Mickey says under his breath. He’s never seen Katie like this. Sure, she’s had moments of worry, but nothing like this. She’s never broken like this and to say it’s unsettling would be an understatement. She’s a strong person, and Mickey’s not sure if hugging her will set her off or make her crumble. He settles on exchanging an understanding look of friendship. “Of course. Of course he can stay.” Mickey switches his body language over towards something less rigid and turns to face Cody. “Hey little man. You want to hang out with Kayla and me for lunch?”

At the mention of Mikayla, Cody’s face brightens and he breaks into a smile. “Princess?” he asks, neck craning to search for signs of Ian and Mickey’s little girl. It’s endearing to see and Mickey’s heart trips over a beat.

“Kayla,” Mickey directs his call towards the center of the apartment. “Come say hello to Cody.”

The response to that news is immediate. Mikayla toddles her way towards her father’s voice, chubby legs moving with uneven but determined stomps. Though Ian and Mickey don’t usually go in for that type of stuff, sometimes Mikayla’s wardrobe is sprinkled with all things sparkly and frilly. It’s unavoidable, being that Mikayla looks adorable in them. Today, she’s barefoot, dressed in a ridiculous pink onesie with ruffles on the butt that make her look extra girlie. She’s got her dark red hair pulled on top of her head in such a way that it fans out in a bouncy waterfall of wisps. Her wide blue eyes search for Cody, widening further when they finally locate him. “Dee!” She squeals and runs full force at Cody, hugging him with every ounce of strength she has.

“Princess!” Cody says again, this time with more exuberance. He hugs her back and grabs her hand like he always does.

“Blocks, Dee!” Mikayla says, her words more of an order than a declaration. At the moment, Mikayla seems to be going through a building phase. She’s always stacking things, making towers so she can topple them over with delight. Maybe she gets it from Ian, but Mikayla can’t seem to get enough of working with her wooden blocks. “Dee!” She insists, trying to get Cody to react. Everyone has given up trying to get her to pronounce Cody’s name, seeing that she’s pretty settled on “Dee” and Cody doesn’t seem to mind.

Looking back at Katie, Mickey nods. “Go. He’ll be fine.”

Katie returns his nod gratefully, sucking in her lips. She gets down on one knee and pulls Cody in for a hug. “You be a good boy for Uncle Mickey and Uncle Ian. Okay?” Ruffling her son’s hair, she squeezes him tightly and kisses his cheek. It’s over quickly, like she can’t linger there or else risk never leaving at all. Pressing forward on the balls of her feet, she kisses Mickey on the cheek, gives him a quick but heartfelt “Thanks” and dashes away.

Shaking his head at her retreating form, Mickey quirks his lips. He knows Katie will be okay but he still feels a twist of worry in his gut. A snort leaves his mouth at the obvious evidence that Katie and he have become close. He’s never had a friend like her, but she gets him. She fits into their lives and makes perfect sense. It’s Cody who made it abundantly clear. In all of his innocence, he picked up on so much more than all the adults involved. He just opened his mouth one day and called him “Uncle Mick.” Mickey supposes it’s because they’ve all been becoming increasingly closer: he, Ian, Katie and David. In part, it’s because Ian’s been so busy opening his own storefront with Jason. Jason’s been helping them but Ian and Mickey have spent great portions of their days putting in a hard day’s work establishing their store and getting it closer to being fully operational. I was David who volunteered to watch Mikayla for them, since he’s home with Cody more often than not. The decision to go along with David's plan was a no brainer for Mickey and Ian. They needed childcare yet they trust no one with their daughter. No one except Katie and David.

It’s been working out great. Mikayla loves going over to Katie and David’s place almost as much as she loves playing with Cody. Of course, Mickey and Ian fell into returning the favor. Cody’s spent his fair share of time at Ian and Mickey’s apartment. Their arrangement has been going on so long that they’re not counting favors any longer, it’s just something friends do. Mickey knows their schedules are getting hectic as time ticks closer to the storefront actually opening but they’re making it work.

It’s been a team effort all around. Jason’s signed on as a business partner and he’s _annoyingly_ become Ian’s partner in crime. But Mickey doesn’t really mean that. It’s all a charade and he’s fooling no one. As much as Mickey likes to gripe about that, he likes Jason. He can’t, however, resist the underlying urge to give Jason a hard time. It’s become their thing. He and Jason throw verbal punches at each other all day long but underneath them all is respect and a genuine friendship. He’s glad that Jason’s around, that’s he’s friends with Ian. He’s enjoyed downtime with Jason and Naomi and he’s happy they’ve been comfortable enough to make themselves at home in each other’s houses. He’s glad that Jayda and Mikayla are close in age and they get along so well. Of course, the hand-me-downs are a nice perk too.

For his own mental satisfaction, Mickey’s been taking on a few odd jobs, wrangling electricity and making some honest money on his own. He’s also been working for Ian, wiring the showcases and curios that Ian designs with lighting apparatuses. But the store is Ian’s brainchild and Mickey and Ian have learned a long time ago that working together helps even them out but they still need to explore parts of the world on their own. So sometimes, like today, Ian’s furiously creating furniture while Mickey stays home with their daughter. And now, apparently Cody as well.

Sinking down into a chair, Mickey watches Cody attempt to teach Mikayla how to strengthen the base of her block tower. It’s a moot point because Mikayla does what she wants anyway, just like the stubborn little cookie she always is. She’s a happy child, and god Mickey is so in love with her. She’s perfect. It doesn’t matter how lame or cliché that sounds because Mickey is absolutely certain that there is no one better than Mikayla. He loves his time spent making a living for his little family, but he loves this too.

He loves watching Mikayla thrive and grow. She’s a force of nature, all personality. She’s his kid, alright, and in more ways than just looks. Sure, she’s got Mickey’s eyes but she’s also got his attitude. And for that reason, Ian’s a goner. Ian’s head over heels in love with her, wrapped so tightly around Mikayla’s fingers that she can manipulate him in her sleep. Mikayla is a mini-Mickey, even with her red hair and Ian’s nose. And Mickey sure as hell loves being her dad.

Mickey never imagined he would love this so much but somehow he found a balance his life and everything feels righted. His rhythm, the underlying thrum of his life, is strong and sturdy. Whatever felt uncertain in his and Ian’s life before Mikayla was born doesn’t feel that way anymore. They’re better than they were before and Mickey thinks Mikayla needs a little credit for that. From the moment Mickey held a positive pregnancy test in his hands, their kid has been resilient enough to assert her place in this world. And when Mickey caught her with those same two hands, the newborn managed to ground them. Through all the chaos, they found ways to root.

That’s all Mikayla’s doing.

And maybe a little bit of Mickey’s doing, since he grew her. He’s not letting Ian forget that.

But it wasn’t all bad. He won’t say it out loud, but it wasn’t all that bad.

Watching Mikayla play with Cody, he smiles. They’re pretty sweet together. Cody’s always been like that with her, and it’s amazed Mickey that a four year old could be so understanding of a fifteen month old.

“Tata!” Mikayla says, facing Mickey while holding a block triumphantly in the air. Mickey doesn’t care that she hasn’t nailed saying “Tato” yet because her version is adorable. It’s like she’s saying “Ta-dah” like she thinks Mickey is as amazing as he believes his daughter to be.

“I see baby girl,” Mickey replies, making a gesture with his chin to encourage her playing.

He let them play peacefully until he notices that time is creeping past Mikayla’s lunch time. “Alright, pip-squeaks. Lunch time. Wanna help?”

“Yes!” Mikayla asserts, drawing out the “s” sound so that it lisped. Abandoning her blocks, and tripping once in her excitement to toddle towards her father, she makes her way to Mickey. Since the moment Mikayla figured out a way to be mobile, she’s made a habit of following Ian and Mickey around the house, certain to make sure all the attention is on her.

Cody follows suit, going up to Mickey and reaching a hand up, expectantly waiting for an opportunity for it to slip into Mickey’s palm. “Okay, Uncle Mick.”

Mickey’s lips quirk up as he watches the child fall in line beside him. When Cody’s like this, Mickey can see David in the kid. But Katie’s spunk is in there too, he’s seen it himself. He takes Cody’s hand and the little boy smiles happily.

Mikayla watches her father and Cody, furrows her brow and purses her lips together in thought. Being the determined little spitfire that she is, she stomps over to Mickey’s other hand and mirrors Cody’s actions, grabbing onto Mickey thumb and pouting. “Tata!”

“Yeah, Princess. That’s right, I’m your Tato. Don’t worry. That’s not changing any time soon.” He takes the time to give his daughter a wide smile and doesn’t back off until she looking up at him with a toothy grin.

They walk towards the kitchen together and Mickey’s gotta admit, _this_ feels pretty good.

***

 Mickey’s head falls back so that Ian’s able to kiss at the pulse point on his neck. “Ngh,” he moans, letting his chin turn to the side and exposing more skin.

“Miss me?” There’s a teasing lilt to Ian’s words as he speaks against the heat Mickey’s radiating.

“Fuck you, you know I did.” A chuckle vibrates in the column of Mickey’s neck. His hips roll, the movement coming with a sigh.

Ian trails kisses to Mickey’s lips, kissing him long and hard. Body weight pressing down on the older man, Ian’s tongue coaxes Mickey into allowing him to work his tongue into the mix. His groin is heavy against Mickey’s, positioned in such a way that he can find friction there. "Missed you too.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Hands coasting up Ian’s sides, Mickey manages to get one palm flat against the base of Ian’s skull. Ian smells like wood shavings and sweat, both scents combining so that desire unfurls in Mickey’s belly. On its own, the scent isn’t overly sexy, but it’s appealing to Mickey because it’s so undeniably Ian. His heartrate spikes and he pulls Ian flush to his chest, tilting his head so their mouths crash against one another’s.

“Shit,” Ian groans, feeling the intensity in Mickey’s actions. He succumbs to them, melting against Mickey and letting the older man take the lead.

Mickey wasn’t kidding. He did miss Ian. He’s been thinking of having the redhead in bed for half of the day, but not all the thoughts were x-rated. It was about having Ian like this, in a way that only the two of them understand. Cody ended up staying late enough to greet Ian when the man came home to join them for a pizza dinner when he returned from work. Katie had come to retrieve a sleepy Cody after the little boy fell asleep on their couch. Turns out David’s mother is going to need more tests, but she’s responsive at the moment. Ian’s watching Cody tomorrow while David visits his mom and Katie and Mickey deal with work. Ian doesn’t mind and Katie’s appreciative, so it all works out.

But right now, Mickey’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about the fact that his very naked boyfriend is grinding up against him while making moans that are bordering and filthy. “Ian,” Mickey whines, bucking his hips to draw attention to the area. “Get on with it.”

He doesn’t have to ask Ian twice. Ian’s feeling it tonight and moves so fast that Ian’s head spins. He slides down Mickey’s body until he’s able to force the man’s legs open and up, thus exposing the rim of Mickey’s entrance.

Words die on Mickey’s lips and turn into a throaty moan the second Ian’s tongue licks a stripe over the furl of muscle. Everything is warm and wet and Ian’s gotten so good at this that he’s expertly working Mickey open.

Soaking up every moment, Mickey unravels. Gone is the exhaustion, replaced by a jolt of adrenaline and a stuttering of his heart. “O-oh!” He brushes a hand though his hair, pushing it off his forehead and closes his eyes. “Fuck yeah.” Spreading his legs wider, he arches his head so that he can watch Ian work. It’s unreasonably sexy, sending a rush of blood his dick. Ian eats his ass good and proper and Mickey hates to put an end to this but he knows having Ian’s cock inside him is going to get him exactly where he wants to be. “Come on,” he prods.

Ian pulls away, lips slick with saliva and swollen slightly from his actions. He gives a devilish grin and Mickey wants to kiss that smirk until they both can’t breathe. Getting on his knees, Ian stretches over Mickey’s body so that he can reach into the nightstand’s drawer for a condom.

Nerves bubbling up, Mickey swallows thickly and grabs Ian’s wrist. “I dunno…you wanna maybe not?”

Ian cocks his head in confusion. “Not what?” A thought dawns on him and his eyes widen in shock. “Not use a condom?”

Swallowing again, Mickey nods. “Um, yeah.” A shiver runs down his spine and he thinks maybe this is a stupid idea. He shouldn’t have brought things up like this. But sometimes it’s hard for him and once he’s got an idea in his head, he’s got to jump on it before he spooks himself and backpedals.

“You wanna go without a condom?” Ian repeats, rolling the words around in his mouth to get a feel for it.

“Maybe.” Mickey licks his lips. “I dunno. Yeah.”  Sighing, he shifts his body to reaffirm the physical contact he has with Ian. “I’ve been thinking…having another baby…that’s something I’ve been thinking about. Thinking I want that.”

The surprise is easily readable on Ian’s face, but it’s tinted with warmth. The expression shifts into a soft smile and Ian rolls his hips into Mickey’s. “Yeah?”

Mickey knows Ian’s asking because he likes what he’s hearing and he wants to hear it again. It’s not really a question. Ian saying “yeah” like that really means that he wants to hear more. “Yeah. Was thinking Mikayla came out pretty good. Thought maybe we could try again. If you wanna.”

“If I wanna?” Ian says, like he can’t believe Mickey’s even saying that. “Shit, Mick.” Ian’s words dissolve into a possessive growl because the thought tastes good to him and he’s radiating satisfaction over that fact. “Been watching Jayda and Kayla playing at the store. Been thinking the same thing. Wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you.” Ian kisses Mickey’s jaw, his body thrumming with contentment.

Ian’s reaction lets Mickey’s nervousness fade away. He smiles into a kiss against Ian’s lips and rocks their bodies together. This is good. This is working out better than any of the fears he had.

Ian’s breathing goes from ragged from arousal to feathery, like he’s on a cloud. He pulls away, eyes clearly more puppy like than lusty. “Aww, Mick…this is awesome. You and me,” he cuts himself off and smiles, sighing happily. “I mean…she’s so amazing. Another baby? That’s gotta be more of the same. It’s gonna be so great, planning a baby and being aware of it the whole time.”

The sentiment hits a nerve, tapping into a part of Mickey that makes him uncomfortable. Crinkling his nose, Mickey says “if I knew you were going to get all sappy about it, I would have kept my mouth shut. Now are you going to wax poetic about it all night or are you going to get inside me? Because I’d really like to come sometime soon and I’d prefer if I had your dick inside me when I do.” He reaches down to grab Ian’s dick, stroking it enough to ensure it’s aroused.

Ian says nothing, but his actions speak of agreement. Lining up, he locks eyes with Mickey as he slides inside of him. As soon as Ian bottoms out, they’re both gasping from the sheer closeness they’re experiencing. They haven’t gone bare since Mickey was pregnant with Mikayla and the connection they’re sharing does something to Ian. He realizes how deeply he’s seated inside Mickey, and it does something to him. His eyes go soft again, looking at Mickey like he’s think perfect being. Instead of the thorough fucking Mickey’s looking for, Ian’s actions turn sweet and gentle.

Grumbling, Mickey flips them. “What the hell, Gallagher?” Ian looks to dreamy, and while he’s certain they are on the same page, he thinks maybe they’re diving in too fast. That it’s too much too quickly. He pulls off of Ian, straining to reach for a condom himself. “Yeah, fuck this. Forget I said anything.”

Ian doesn’t like that idea. He exerts enough power to catch Mickey off guard when he grabs Mickey’s hips and keeps him in place, maneuvering so that he can line his dick up again. “Don’t you fucking dare, Mick. Not after what you just said.” The words drip with his earnestness and he bucks up, sheathing himself inside Mickey again. Now that he’s back inside, he regain his bearings and sense of control. Ian’s fingers dip into the new cut of Mickey’s hips like he owns the area. Flipping them again so that Mickey’s pinned underneath him, he starts pounding into him. “If you want an orgasm and a baby, I’mma give you both,” Ian growls.

The line is so damn cheesy that Mickey rolls his eyes but in the end, Ian hits the perfect spot and he end up letting the action drag a moan out of him. _This_ is what he wants. He wants Ian moving above him, gyrating and thrusting, panting as he works for each and every moan that leaves Mickey’s mouth. He has no idea what possesses him but Ian’s enthusiasm is contagious and Mickey succumbs to it. “Yeah I want that. You gonna do it, tough guy?” It’s a blatant challenge and Mickey knows it. It’s why he said it.

It creates a domino effect and Ian picks up the pace. Their movements are simultaneously rough and gentle. Each grunt of air leads to another and it’s a chain reaction. Mickey can feel it boiling over and he knows he’s a goner when Ian’s hand wraps around his dick pumps it in time with the way he’s pistoning his hips. As much as he knows what’s about to happen, his orgasm takes Mickey by surprise. His eyes widen instead of squeeze shut and he locks his gaze with Ian’s as he comes between their bellies.

It’s permission for Ian to let himself go. He hikes one of Mickey’s legs up so that it’s wrapped snugly around Ian’s back, trapping the younger man there. Then he joins Mickey in orgasm, slamming in as deep as he can get before he coats Mickey’s inside with pulses of come. Their eye contact doesn’t waver. They’re breathing together because they’re synched up. They can’t move other than holding onto each other and shifting just a fraction of an inch deeper. Closer. They’re closer than ever in every sense of a world. They’ve been family for a long time, but being _a family_ is new. It’s what they are and nothing is changing that. Ian’s flayed open, giving Mickey everything. Giving and giving. He takes too, but this connection is electric. Mickey can speak electricity and live wires. Ian’s coming inside him and fucking smiling about it. A smile that makes Mickey know everything is going to be okay.

And shit. After all these years together, Ian’s still finding ways to surprise him.

He’s something else.

 _They’re_ something else.

And hopefully they’re going to be something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow! I can't believe I am posting the epilogue and saying goodbye to this story. I am feeling a little sad about saying goodbye to it but I have some solace in the fact that I already outlined the sequel.  
> I want to say think you to all the wonderful people who read my story, gave me the confidence to post it, and left me such lovely comments. I am so blessed!  
> I also want to say two things:  
> 1) The sequel will deal with Mickey's second pregnancy. I know this story was Mickey heavy, but it was that way for a reason. He was dealing with a lot of stuff. There will be more Ian in the next one (and still just as much Mickey).  
> 2) Speaking of more Ian, I am going to be writing timestamps. This epilogue kind of glossed over things, like the fact that Ian and Mickey have gotten closer with Jason and Naomi. People have been wanting to meet Naomi and you will. Also, I am going to do a timestamp of adorable Mikayla playing with Jayda. I know people have been asking for that. I am also going to do a timestamp about how Ian decided to open his own business as well as some of Mikayla's firsts (her first steps, her first words...etc) Man, does Mikayla say "daddy" or "tato" first? Does she walk to Ian or Mickey first?
> 
> That being said, if anyone had ideas of promps that you would like to see in the story or a timestamp, I would be honored if you would let me know.  
> Thanks so much!


End file.
